Finding Yourself
by Lynx Larabellows
Summary: As if trying to prevent his older brother from going crazy wasn't hard enough, Chris now has to deal with keeping his identity a secret, keeping his unstable cousin safe, trying not to destroy the world, and dealing with people from the future. Oh joy.
1. The Disclaimer

**¸.·´¯·»**Charmed**«·´¯·.¸  
¸.·´¯·»¸.·´¯·»Finding Yourself****«·´¯·.¸«·´¯·.¸**  
**¸.·´¯·»**_The Disclaimer_**«·´¯·.¸**

First of all let me say that you are **not obligated to read this**. This is only to abide by this site's regulations, and to relay a few things that might be of interest, so go ahead and skip to the next chapter if you just want to get on with the story.

**Author:** Lynx Larabellows

**Rating: **Mature/Teen

**Warnings: **Post Prince Charmed, character death, slight character bashing, violence, some gore, dark themes, implied non-con, angst, drama, mild language and … extreme fluffiness. What? I have to lighten the story up somehow :)

**Summary: **As if trying to prevent the world from going straight to hell wasn't hard enough to begin with, whitelighter from the future Chris now has to deal with keeping his true identity a secret, avoid angering or upsetting his overprotective older brother while still trying to keep him from taking over the planet, keeping his mentally unstable cousin safe from all harm, getting stalked by _two_ different versions of his estranged father and a few other people from the future, all the while trying not to destroy the world by having an emotional meltdown. Oh, the joys of being the world's only hope—note the sarcasm?

**Disclaimer: **I am not associated or affiliated with Aaron Spelling or the WB or CW. The only things I own are the original characters, and the majority of the plot.

**Notes: **This will be a _long_ story, so if you were just looking for a quick read, this is not the story for you. This will be a bit Chris-centric, but I also center on Wyatt, Leo, and a few original characters. I'll warn you now that some of you will strongly dislike Piper and the girls for a while, but they _are_ redeemable. I write as an omnipresent narrator, so at times I will write one person's reactions to thing, then go on to write someone else's too. As I said in the warnings, this will have sensitive issues such as death and violence and non-con, though the non-con will only be either implied or mentioned, nothing graphic. I've changed many things about the cannon to better fit my likings, but I've not changed everything so much that it's completely unrecognizable.

I write purely for fun, and real life can be an obstacle—I have a full time job and I am a full time student, and I'll admit that sometimes I spend more time reading stories than writing them but I promise that I will attempt to update the story whenever I can, though I will warn you that sometimes I'll post two chapters a month, or a few over several months, and sometimes not for months at a time—this is in no way reflected upon how many reviews I get, so don't feel obligated to give me a review just because some people on this site withhold updates based on filling a review quota. If you want to give me a review, that's great and I would love to hear what your thoughts about my writing, but if you don't then that's fine too—I want my readers to review because they want to, not because they feel obligated to.

I reread what I've already written several times both to make sure I know exactly where I want this story to go, and to look for misspelled words but sometimes I still miss them. I had a Beta reader but not anymore, and I am not looking to replace him any time soon. Although, if you happen to notice something spelled improperly, I would appreciate being notified. I have a bad habit of going back and rewriting what I've already written, so sometimes when I introduce something in later chapters that you don't recognize, chances are it will now be found in an earlier chapter. I _will_ try to warn you when this happens, but sometimes I forget to. Currently, all of the chapters should be consistent with each other because I just gave them all an overhaul, so it's only going to be some of my longtime readers who are out of the loop—sorry about that guys!—but I did leave a note on the last new chapter that states that to fully understand what I've changed, they'll have to go back and reread a bit. I don't like leaving ANs in my chapters, but if I do relay some info, it will always be out of the way at the bottom of the page so you can skip it if you don't want to read it and I leave only the bare minimum so I don't waste your time, and I tend to delete them by the next update if they aren't needed. Other than that, I sincerely hope you all enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoy writing it. If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to email or PM me, and I'll try to get back to you as promptly as I can.

My email is posted on my profile and I usually check my mail at least once every few days, most often when I get home from work or classes which is typically in the evenings. If I don't get back to you within a few weeks, it's safe to assume that either I did not get your email or my internet was disconnected… or, worst case scenario, I've been run over by a bus, three cars, and a motorcyclist and am now in intensive care, but rest assured that I'll be out and about within a few months :)

Best wishes,  
Lynx


	2. The Escape

**Finding Yourself****  
**_The Escape_

**Monday, November 23****rd****, 2020**  
Short breaths of air rushed through her chapped lips, the coldness of the room making them appear in visible puffs. She had her head resting against the soft padded wall, which acted almost like a pillow, her pale and sickly form curled into itself into the corner of the small room. The coolness would have had anyone else shaking in shivering, moving around where they sat to try and keep their body's circulation up so they would not freeze. She, however, remained unaffected by it. It was, in fact, a comfort more than anything.

The young woman's clothes were made of the simplest and thinnest fabric, cheaply bought and poorly crafted. A pair of off-white drawstring pants hung loosely around her hips even though the tie had been secured as tightly as possible, and a matching shirt tied up her back which hung awkwardly off of her body shoulders. Her arms, however, were cradled in a strong, tight and restricting fabric that pulled her arms in opposite directions around her small body, a straitjacket that kept her movements restrained.

To the casual observer, this young woman could have just been another underweight teenager, her skin an unnatural shade of translucent pearl and wrapped around her frail body too tightly, too thinly, making her veins easily visible to all and her bones jut out sharply. She had dark brown hair, appearing almost back in the dim lighting, cropped closely to her head, chopped jagged and unevenly so that it stuck up in odd places around her face.

The only real thing that would have made her stand out in a crowd were her eyes. From a distance, they both appeared to be the same but a closer look could prove that, while they were both eerie and strangely knowing in a way that made it impossible to keep eye-contact with her for more than a few short moments… they were both different colors. One was a pale ice blue, cold like a bitter winters frost, while the other was a steely gray, seemingly capable of cutting right through one's soul.

Adorning each of her thin wrists and her neck were simple circlets. Jewelry seemed a bit out of place on her, with her cheap and simple apparel and her sickly state. And they _would_ have been out of place, had they been ordinary trinkets. Instead they left her abused soul feeling even emptier than before. Even in her confused state, with countless drugs and the useless electroshock therapy surging through her weak system, she knew what the plain silver jewelry truly was.

They were used to seal the very lifeblood of any magical being in existence—they sealed her magic inside of her. Magic was a part of her. It was in her veins, in her soul, in the very air that she breathed. Not being able to feel it fully, it was like being trapped beneath water with no breath, suffocating and claustrophobic. It's what had made her scratch around the delicate skin of her wrists and her neck, desperately trying to remove them so she could feel somewhat a semblance of relief. The scars from each failed attempt at removal had still yet to fade, still red and raw from her most recent attempts, of which being bound by the jacket had been the result.

These doctors thought they were all so smart, trusting all of the supposedly converted witches they had turned to help them create the seals for the circlets.

Only a handful out of every few hundred of her kind had ever truly converted, and those that had, they had chosen to turn their backs on magic itself, and thus the magic they were able to wield was of the weakest kind. While the trinkets and seals they enchanted did work, they did not work as effectively as someone else casting them would. The spellwork was halfhearted at best, full of patchwork holes and tears that would not, _could_ not, contain everything.

And for someone as powerful as she, it could only seal away a little. Which is why, she knew, they had placed three on her person instead of just one, as they did for everyone else in this Facility.

It did not matter, however, because even though they had taken and sealed as much of her magic as possible, they could not take it all, especially not the portion she shared with her _other half. _They believed she was helpless in here, a good little lab rat all secured and locked away until they had use of her, for experimenting or for her abilities.

It would be their downfall.

These doctors had been warned extensively about her and her family, warned by the rogues and converts alike. The suggested precautions of having an entire coven of converts or rogues bind her powers, because that would be the only true way to ensure someone of her lineage was harmless, or the suggestion that she be kept permanently sedated, had all been ignored. These people were so blinded by her… _potential._

They coveted her far too greatly to ensure she became little more than a vegetable. She was _Subject Zero_, after all, the first true witch in captivity. She had been with them from the time she was thirteen, until she had successfully managed to escape, with the aid of her cousin and his followers. It was ironically his fault that she was here again, though it had been of her own violation. She would rather it be her inside this prison, rather than her cousin.

Among the powers that she retained, there was one in particular that she was especially glad that could not be bound. It was a special power, extraordinarily unique. This power was one that the government of the United States of America and their military had a particular investment in, which was the main reason she had yet to be placed into a drug induced coma. This ability allowed them to watch their enemies, to know intimate details of when an attack might take place and where everything will happen was too much an advantage not to grasp.

It was true that they have more cooperative clairvoyants in their possession, at least a dozen per each State. However her gift of _sight_ was far more advanced than just the everyday run of the mills witch. Whereas their seers could see a few days ahead into the possible future, she could see years ahead, decades, even millennia ahead even. She was their crowning jewel, their precious diamond among the rubble. They kept eyes on her closely, safeguarding her even better than the President of the United States himself.

It was with her _sight_ that she watched the world around her take shape from simple lives of working and shopping and laughter into one of hiding and death and destruction. Once magic had finally broken through the veil of secrecy and the mortals made aware of its existence, that is when the world had been thrown into chaos and everything began to unravel.

The discovery brought back the medieval methods of the Salem witch trials, only with better technology and a worldwide witch hunt. Hundreds of thousands of good, innocent people were accused and summarily executed on suspicions of magic, and only a few out of every fifty who were killed or accused had actually practiced magic or was married into it.

Some willingly surrendered, betraying their own kind and making a pledge to their respective militaries that they would only use their abilities in service to their governments. They were known as converts to the public masses, traitorous bastards and a few other colorful names to those of the magical persuasion. Others had resisted, and unfortunately perished for it. Few, who desired peace between everyone, were made examples of, because most mortals seem to forget their morality whereas magic is concerned. Their bodies are burned in the pyres, stadiums built specifically for the sheer _entertainment_ of watching a witch burn.

As fate would have it, just when witches finally began to lose hope, an unspoken accord was struck with those who had once hunted them. A truce of sorts, and those who had once protected the mortals from their worst nightmares stopped practicing their magic, allowing the soulless demons to prey freely upon their tormentors. Some witches even fled to the very demons they once reviled for protection against the mortals. Alliances, pacts, and oaths were made, and all of the gates to the Underworld were opened and the demons were set free to wreck whatever havoc they desired upon the rest of humanity.

The trials died down as the mortals began to realize that they were burning their only chance at salvation to crisps, and the remaining witches still and custody, and who were deemed _useful enough_, were transferred to facilities and molded into warriors to fight their new aggressors. Female witches were little more than breeding stock for an improved, powerful army, and new technology gave the mortals their own power of control. With the simple push of a button, an implanted microchip at the base of the brainstem could render the host brain dead or instantly kill them.

Mortal death row inmates, and simple criminals only serving for thievery or even a mild vandalism charge were… _recruited_ for experiments. They would be injected with the blood of a witch or a demon, subsequently imbuing the carrier with the powers the magical being possessed. Of course people did not take into account that mundane humans were not built with the unique genome sequencing required to successfully transfuse magic, and it wasn't long until the foreign magical energy would cause the body to attack itself, causing mental instability and hallucinations before their eventual death. Rogues, as they were known, typically only survived five to seven days after being injected.

It was something she could sympathize with. She, herself, was mentally unstable. It had been why she was discovered as a witch, and as she was the _first_ witch in captivity, she had been allowed to live for the soul purpose of studying her. She had been diagnosed with schizophrenia when she was only twelve, and institutionalized a few short months before her birthday. She was kept heavily sedated not long after her incarceration, and when it became apparent that magic was not just a myth, she had been intensively investigated due to some irregularities in not only her case file but also in her blood. It was because of those studies that scientists had discovered a way to isolate people with the magical anomalies in their bloodstream.

And though she spent most of her time lost in an abyss caused by countless unnecessary brain surgeries, shocks and dissections, which had all been attempts to make her sane _before_ the discovery of magic… she did have moments of clarity, where her mind was no longer fractured beyond repair. She even likened her own thoughts to a puzzle being built on a watery surface; all of the pieces were laid out before her and she was able to place them together in ways that made sense, though at any given moment the tide would disperse and the pieces would break apart and become jumbled once more.

During those lucid moments, she could ignore the many chemicals inside of her body that were slowly ruining her, and she could let go of the instinctual and almost animalistic reactions. She could think clearly, she could plan, and scheme and it had taken her years to come up with a suitable plan during these short periods of lucidity.

However she had unwittingly underestimated her own abilities.

Another power they had not been able to seal away had been her telepathy. With it, even in her unclear and confused state, she had somehow managed to convey her internal, long running plan to her _other half,_ unintentional as it may have been. And because of that… he was gone.

One moment there had been a constant, comforting presence settled in the back of her mind, the warm soul wrapped around her… and then it had simply vanished, as if it had never been there to begin with. It had been worse than the feeling of the majority of her magic being just out of her reach, it had been more heartbreaking than screaming for her family as strangers held her down and stuck her with needles. Half of her soul was just gone, just like that with no explanation for it even.

It was his disappearance more than anything that had placed her into her latest stupor, with little to no brain activity. She would not eat, she would not sleep, and she was completely unresponsive to everything. The doctors had to nourish her intravenously every day and sedate her every night so that her body would not shut down completely. Her condition had worsened over the past few months, her body and mind and magic all in accord for once. Essentially she was committing suicide. Her will to live had faded along with the presence of her other half, of her Chris. He was gone, and logically, or rather as logically as she could get, it meant that he had to have perished and the only way to be rejoined with him would be to die as well.

At least, that had been her mindset until just a few weeks ago.

For the briefest of moments, she had felt his presence once more, just as warm and comforting and _there_ as it had always been, though their bond had been subdued, not entirely cohesive any longer.

Feeling him had been a slap in the face, a wakeup call, and then she had been devastated when she realized he had vanished once more within the hour. Before he disappeared again however, she had instinctively sought out his mind with her own and learned the reasons behind his mysterious disappearances. From that moment on, she had placed a new plan into motion, seeing as her other half had unknowingly stolen the original one from her, and sat patiently in waiting these past few days to bring it to a conclusion. She pretended to be as unresponsive as before, biding her time until the moment was right.

It was pure luck that her captors hadn't the foresight to place magical detectors or even a few probes inside of her soft padded cage. They held far too much faith in their textbook sciences and technologies, believing that their inventions could contain her, especially when they were under the misconception that the trinkets around her wrists and her neck.

All they did to watch over her was a small camera, positioned in the far right corner of the small room where she could not reach it, concealed within a black, glassy dome. It transmitted into the office just at the end of the hallway from her room, just as the other nine padded cells down here on the supposedly _high priority_ ward.

In exactly five minutes, a doctor and a guard would enter her room to dose her with the nightly sedative she had been prescribed. That was when she would put her new carefully thought out plan into motion. The doctor's name was Augustus Cavil. He had married his high school sweetheart at the tender age of eighteen. He earned himself a scholarship to a very prestigious collage, and pursued and attained his medical degree. He and his wife had tried for years to have children, and now he was the very loving and proud father of twin girls.

It was her plan to let him die by his own hand with the sedatives meant for her, so that he died quickly as quietly rather than the long, messy and painful death the man truly deserved.

Contrary to his very ordinary way of life before the discovery of magic, Augustus Cavil had become a very bad man during his time within this facility. He no longer cared about the sanctity of life, ruthlessly torturing and interrogating suspected witches until they confessed whether it was true or not. He likewise attended the pyres every weekend, making bets with his friends on how long a witch would scream and struggle before the fires consumed them. He was planning to watch the burning of a witch tonight in fact, just after his shift.

This witch had no active powers and she was considered to be too old to be in the breeding program, so she had been deemed useless by none other than Cavil himself. She was being held within this facility, on a less secured level. If her plan went the way she foresaw, then the innocent woman's life would be spared, along with the guard and his family.

When nine o'clock rolled around, the heavy footfalls of Cavil and the guard could be heard echoing down the hallway just beyond her door as they approached. She silently counted down the minutes, the very seconds, until they would arrive at her room. She waited patiently, in the position she had been in since she had woken, in the position she had not moved from, save for when they had to physically manhandle her into a new position. Her heart pounded beneath her ribs, eyes remaining fixatedly at the padded walls in front of her.

The keys jingles in a blaringly loud way, as the outer door of heavy bars was unlocked, and then a high pitched noise as the access codes were imputed into the keypad on the inner door, her senses enhanced by the adrenalin coursing through her veins.

There was a _whoosh_ as the hydraulics of the door activated, and the two men entered, approaching her cautiously. The doctor held in his hands a datapad and a stylus, her most current records displayed on the plasma screen. The guard was unarmed, save for a single baton, and he stood awkwardly at the mouth of the door, his face turned away as if he were afraid to even watch. Cavil stepped in front of her, kneeling down and began going through a series of tests as procedure dictated, just as he had done every night since he inherited this position from the late doctor, Richard West.

"Pupils still unresponsive," he murmured to himself after flashing a light directly into her eyes a few times. The entire process of checking her vitals and responses took only around ten minutes. "Absolutely no reflexes… no motor functions… she's still the same as she was last night," he finally deduced once the tests were all complete. "Perhaps she should be readmitted to the breeding programs. I doubt she would give them as much of a fight as she did last time. They probably won't even need to give her the insemination, just lock her in a room with one of the scum and let him have at it," he chortled.

The guard grimaced and shifted uncomfortably. "Can you just get on with it?"

Cavil gave a snort of bemusement. "What? It's not like she cares. She's been completely out of it for months already. She is useless to us, at least as a breeder she would be worth the money we spend on her. According to her records, she used to be one of West's favorites because of how powerful she is. He used to spend hours upon hours with her, _alone_ most of the time. I doubt it was all _purely_ for research, if you know what I mean," He laughed callously at the guard's obvious discomfort. "Wouldn't mind doing some… _research_ on her myself."

"Look!" the guard snapped, anger and disgust apparent in his voice. "Just… just do your job. I have to get back to my post. If you want to do anything else, do it on your own time, alright!"

"I think I will," Cavil said coolly. He turned back to the girl, who had still not moved from her position even though she was dying to take the stylus and shove it into this man's eye, a clean and quiet death be damned. He removed a bottle of the sedatives from his white lab coat, along with a syringe. After filling the syringe with the necessary dosage, he bit off the plastic cover of the needle and prepared to inject her with it.

However, Augustus found that, when he reached down to untie her pants so that he could jab the needle into her upper thigh as he always did each night, that his hands faltered as he heard something unexpected. There was a whisper, a voice in the back of his mind. It was nothing more than a soft murmur of sound but never before had he heard anything so melodious, gentle or beautiful in his entire existence. The voice washed over his with the same power as a strong wave crashing into a reef with devastating force.

"_Augustus…_" it sang to him, lovely and soft. "_Augustus…_"

"Yes?" he breathed out in awe, the cover of the needle dropping from his lips, forgotten. This mysterious voice knew his name! But, just after he spoke, the voice grew softer, became fainter… like it was moving away from him and he desperately wished he could form the words to beg it not to leave him. It was as if his tongue had suddenly become glued to the roof of his mouth, rendering him unable to speak.

"_Augustus,_"

The man blinked as the voice now seemed much closer, much clearer than before. It was then he realized that he was staring into a pair of blue and gray eyes, fierce combination of vicious ice and sharpened steel, aware and intelligent, and staring with intensity directly at him. And yet… he felt at peace, being held in place by those oddly wonderful eyes, wondering how he could have ever thought this beautiful girl a useless creature who should be exterminated like the termites in his attic.

"_Augustus,_" she whispered once more, her chapped lips unmoving, her head tilting in a barely noticeable way that, had he not been watching her so intently, so carefully, he would have missed the movement entirely. It made her lovely chocolate hair fall into her eyes wonderfully. "_Do you love me Augustus?_" she asked him, her glorious voice lit with a vulnerable tinge.

It made his heart swell that this particular question had the ability to make her feel vulnerable.

"Yes," he answered breathlessly. "Of course," He winced as he saw it reflected in her eyes that she did not believe him. Her eyes, her beautiful blue and gray eyes, stared deeply into his own muddy brown ones, full of hurt and accusation.

"_More than you love Elizabeth?_" she asked softly.

Augustus Cavil had to dig deep within his memories to even recall a vague impression of a woman named Elizabeth, though he still came up with no true recollection of his loving wife. Nor could he recall ever having children with her. His high school sweetheart was nothing but a vague shadow in his mind compared to his new love.

"I don't know an Elizabeth," he told her urgently, his heart pounding with fear that she would still not believe him, and he would lose her over it. "And even if I did know her, how could I possibly love her more than you?"

"… _Prove it."_

"I love you, I swear!" he spoke desperately, eyes shining with unshed tears in his plea. "You're my everything! My world! I would do anything for you, my love…"

The young woman studied him for a moment, as if assessing his sincerity, and he tried as best as he could to convey how deeply his love for her ran, finally allowing himself to cry in front of her. It was something he had refused to do ever since he was a child, believing that tears were for the weak, and yet he could not help but release all of his feelings if it meant she would believe him.

And then, after a long moment that seemed to have lasted forever, the corners of her eyes crinkled upward, and her lips twitched into a smile. And that was all it took to make everything that had been in his life until this point meaningless, all of his worries and triumphs, his family and friends…it was as if he had been dead inside before this point in time, knowing it was only his love that could bring a smile upon her face. He felt whole for the first time in his life.

"_Will you help me, Augustus?_" she asked sadly.

For the first time, he suddenly noticed that she was restrained and in clothes that were threadbare. With a horrified gasp, he gathered his love into his arms and reached behind her to unlatched the jacket that bound her arms, which he then helped her to remove with the gentlest of care he could manage, while retaining his fury.

How dare someone do this to her! His anger only further increased when he realized how small and dainty she was, her body appearing as if it had not been properly nourished in years. When she was finally free of the confinements, she smiled at him once more and all of his anger faded.

"_I need you to do one last thing for me, Augustus,_" she told him solemnly. "_Before we can leave…_"

Augustus nodded eagerly. "Anything, my love,"

"_My dear friend Jenny is being held here as well,_" she informed him sadly, her bottom lip trembling. _I fear they will do to her what was done to me. Will you help her?_

"Of course!" he agreed, beaming when his love's eyes shown with happiness at his response.

"_Thank you, Augustus,_" Her face was right in front of him, and he framed her delicate face with his hands as she leaned in, her breath wafting warmly against his cheek before she kissed it. He turned his head to capture her soft lips with his own but she had already moved out of his reach. "_You need to go now. I fear she will not make it longer otherwise. She is being held in a cell on the first floor, room 152. Save her, and I will reward you beyond your wildest dreams._"

The promise was followed by another kiss to his cheek, and Augustus was prepared this time, moving quickly before she could pull way, pressing his lips against hers. He moaned at the softness of them, his body trembling with ecstasy at the simple kiss, and he felt her body quiver as well. His hands wondered up her sides gently as hers suddenly moved to his shoulders, and he reluctantly released her when her hands became persistent, pushing him away.

"_Go now!_" she gasped, breathless and shaking. "_The sooner you leave, the sooner you will get your reward._"

Augustus swallowed hard and moaned inwardly at the thought of what his reward would entail and he stood slowly, holding onto her hand until the last possible second before rushing through the open door and past the shocked guard.

The other man had watched with bemusement as the doctor had begun speaking to himself as if he were actually holding a conversation. He had tried countlessly to gain the doctor's attention over the last few minutes, though he had been unsuccessful. He could only stare in helpless shock as the doctor had abruptly released his patient from her restraints and then proceeded to kiss her unmoving body until she forcefully shoved him away from her.

The guard cleared his throat, feeling even more awkward now than he had before. He stared at the girl cautiously, though she remained in the exact position she had been in since she had pushed the doctor off of her. He took a half step closer to her, wondering if he should call for another doctor to finish what Dr. Cavil was doing before he seemingly lost his mind. He froze in place, however, when her eyes suddenly snapped to his.

There was such an intenseness in her gaze that it held him immobile.

"Hello Daniel," she said calmly.

He swallowed the lump lodged in his throat. "Y-you know me?"

The girl smiled, a sad haunting smile, and inclined her head just barely. "Yes, I do. Your name is Daniel Quinn del Mar, and you celebrated your twenty-eighth birthday two months ago. You are married to Chelsea Nina del Mar nee Yates and she will be turning twenty-seven in January. You have two children together. Kathryn Anne del Mar, who is going to be seven this December, and Marcus Neil del Mar, whose fourth birthday you celebrated just last night, even though it was not until today, because you had to work and you wanted to be with him when he opened his gifts."

Daniel would have hyperventilating when she began to recite such things about his life, about his wife and children, his _family_, things she couldn't possibly know… and yet he found himself strangely calm about all of this, as if his fear had been pushed into the deepest depths of his mind.

The young woman rose gracefully to her feet, a delicate rising and he instinctively flinched away, until he realized that she was merely wiping at her mouth, a brief and vaguely disgusted expression crossing her face.

"Do you know that Kathryn is a witch?" she asked him, as if it were something as casual as asking about the weather.

On the contrary, the word was considered too taboo to even speak, because even the briefest whisper of magic would bring an inquiry unless you were accusing another of being one. Daniel balled a hand into a fist, his body shaking.

"You've seen it," Her voice was neither accusing nor condemning. She was simply telling him a fact. "Even if you refuse to acknowledge what it is. How objects move when she is angry or upset… it is called telekinesis. The ability to move and control objects with your mind… she practices in secret when everyone else is asleep in their beds because she is scare that if you catch her, that you will bring her here."

All of the blood drained from his face, leaving Daniel pale. He would _never_… his Katie, precious Katie would never be brought here! Over his dead body. She would waste away here, become nothing more than an empty shell full of chemicals instead of his happy little girl, who loved to smile and play and sing. He would protect her, he vowed inwardly. He would make her stop so she could not be discovered by anyone.

As if hearing his inner most thoughts, the young woman spoke again. "It was something she was born with, not like an addiction or something that can be stopped. It is genetic, passed down through the generations… surely you've noticed how sick your wife has become over the last few years. She keeps it all bottled up inside of her, and it is not healthy. I was happy once," she said with a a frown. "Just like Katie. When I was considering my future, I was torn between wanting to become a doctor to save lives just like my older cousin wanted to be, or to become a singer. My family always said I had a beautiful voice," Her calm eyes met his frightened ones. "Does it worry you that your sweet little Katie will be in my place before she has her first kiss? She will be a little older than I was when they first caught me… she will be fourteen. Will you still watch the monitors and guard the halls when she is the one who is trapped inside here, as they do cruel and unspeakable things to her? Does it bother you? It should." She met his gaze fiercely. "No, I don't like doctors any longer. I would prefer to be a singer now,"

Daniel closed his eyes with a noticeable shudder as she began to hum a haunting melody. Her voice _was_ beautiful… but it was also dead. There was no trace of emotion in it at all, and that made it the most terrifying thing he had ever heard before. Only when she ceased the sound did he find the strength to open his eyes once more, releasing a startled gasp when he realized that she was now standing directly in front of him.

He took several steps back to place some distance between them but in his haste, he forgot that the floors were padded, soft and uneven, and it sent him sprawling. He looked up swiftly from his position on the floor, noticing with relief that she had not moved again and was instead peering down at him with something akin to bemusement.

"White used to be my favorite color, you know," she told him calmly. "It went with everything. Reminded me of winter when we used to build men out of snow, and have snowball fights with my family…" She glanced at the walls and the floor with disdain. "White is all that is here, even the floors in the hallways and the ceilings are white. The brightness hurts… this place… all it does is bring pain,"

Daniel's eyes were drawn to her inner elbows just where her thin sleeve ended. There were small scars and a peppering of red wounds that were recent, made from the constant insertions of needles.

It was a sight that made his stomach roll.

He opened his mouth, wanting to tell her that he never wanted anything like this to happen to her or his daughter or his wife or anyone else no matter how different they were from him because they weren't _different_ in the waves that should matter… he just couldn't find the words, still struck silent.

And yet she smiled at him, and it wasn't the same sad smile from before that had sent chills down his spine. This one was genuine. It spoke of something akin to pride. But… in what? Certainly not in him? He had been guarding this place since she was brought in a few months ago… but maybe… just maybe, she knew. He had no idea how she could possibly know what he was thinking, t hough somehow he was certain that she knew that all he had ever wanted to do was protect his family, to provide for them, and that was the only reason he had sat by all this time, ignoring the twisted feelings in his gut and covering his ears whenever he heard the screams. And now all he wanted to do was protect her, to help her get out of this hellish existence.

"You are a good man, Daniel," she said gently, her small hand reaching down.

Daniel stared at the offered appendage with slight apprehension. Her fingers were long and slender, graceful in a way he imagined that a piano player's might be, and they extended toward him patiently. Her skin was so achingly pale that he could see every vein in her hand and wrist, crossing beneath her skin in an almost spider web fashion.

It was as if something had finally snapped into place inside of his head, and he cringed inwardly. She was no different than him, no different than his daughter or his wife. For far too long he had looked the other way, he had fooled himself into believing what everyone was told, that these people were not human at all. And this girl, this small and fragile girl had shattered his illusions with a five minute conversation.

Daniel reached up, sliding the palm of his hand against her own. Her skin was warm even in the coldness of the room, and he felt a small undercurrent of _something_ just brimming beneath her flesh. Shock wove though him, even shown on his features, when the young woman hauled him up by his arm with ease, as if he were weightless. She offered him no explanation for her strength and he did not ask.

"Keep Kathryn safe," she advised, placing a gentle hand on against his shoulder. "If you do, then one day she will grow strong. Her powers will progress and she will be able to protect herself and the family she will have when she is older. She will save a man's life, a very important man. And with his life, so many more will follow. As it has been written, so shall it be." Her words held a certain heaviness to them—as if while she had been speaking them, somewhere somehow they were being written into stone. Unbreakable stone. "A single grain of sand can move water on the opposite side of the world… unnoticed, but still there. Your daughter will create a ripple that will grow into a wave."

The man's brows furrowed in confusion to her prediction but she only smiled at him and grasped his arm tightly. "Follow your heart," she whispered reassuringly, the pressure of her hands fading as she too faded away into nothingness, surrounded by an invisible breeze. "You will understand… one day…"

And with that daunting note, the young woman he had watched over for the past few months simply vanished. One second he was staring right at her, she was there… and in the next she was gone. Blinking almost stupidly, he looked around the small space for any trace of her, and then exited her empty cell in a daze.

Daniel had been aware that she was a witch, a powerful witch that everyone in the facility had always seemed to be treated with great reverence. She had been given gourmet foods and soft blankets for the most part… at least, until Dr. Richard West's brutal three months ago. Cavil had not been joking when he had said that she had been a favorite of West's. It was not as if it were some dark secret, it was actually rather common knowledge. But every witch in this facility had those odd little bracelets with the magical sealing… right?

Daniel thought hard on it for a moment, and he could distinctly recall seeing flashes of silver on her neck and her wrists. But the way she had spoken… he knew that she was classified as insane, not entirely there… but… His heart leaped into his chest as he finally sat down at his desk, his hands moving to the keyboard before he even had time to think about what he was doing. He had to know. If she could… if she really could, then it would explain everything.

The computer was still logged onto Dr. Cavil's personal files from just minutes before, when the man had accessed it for his rounds. Hers was still open. It was the largest file within the bunch, countless entries and notations and information. He scanned over the introduction briefly, which merely consisted of her serial code, of which he knew was also either branded or tattooed over some part of her waiflike body, and her name. Her name was Phoenicia Naomi Halliwell. She was categorized as a witch, with certain aspects of an unidentified strand of demon blood in her as well. Her known powers were telekinesis, which he recalled from their earlier conversation was the ability to move things with the mind, and she was also an extremely gifted clairvoyant. He scanned down an old entry, one made by Dr. West long before Daniel had accepted this job.

_It is possible that subject may have more power though she has yet to show any signs of more than the previous two listed. The subject is incredibly gifted with, what she calls, her Sight. She has correctly predicted both minor and major outcomes of certain events, and it seems as if there is no limit to how far ahead she can see. She also seems to have complete control over her telekinesis, able to use it as a shield or as a weapon. _

_Subject is also severely schizophrenic and is unreliable in the field. She could be extremely useful as a breeder, any children from her would become powerful assets. However previously failed artificial inseminations have proven to be ineffective due to the subject terminating the pregnancy before it even starts in another display of her superb control of telekinesis. I recommend the use of muscle relaxants and sedatives to administer the inseminations over long periods of time._

The sick feeling returned as he reached the conclusion of the entry, wondering how exactly she had managed to survived this long and come out relatively sane. He looked away from the monitor in shame, berating himself for doing nothing.

Daniel had been right. She could, she definitely could. She could see into the future and his daughter would one day become someone important. He couldn't let something like this ever happen to his daughter, his sweet little Katie. He _refused_ to let this happen to her. This girl, Phoenicia, she had been like Kathryn once, just a carefree girl, so full of energy and life. And now she was just a hollow shell of what she used to be.

It would not be Katie's fate.

Nodding to himself, he _conveniently _neglected to report the young woman's disappearance and warily made his way down the hallway and to the elevator, intent on clocking out and getting home. Tonight, he would take his family and run. He had a friend, one who, while not actively part of the Resistance that Daniel knew of, supplied them with information from time to time. He would join them, the Resistance and he would finally choose a side.

On his way out of the building, he saw Augustus Cavil with a woman he recognized as a witch whose execution was going to be broadcast tonight. The doctor was leading her to his fancy car, and that was when Daniel noticed that there was another young woman already sitting in the car. His eyes widened as the dark haired girl smiled and waved at him from behind the windshield while Cavil ushered the other witch into the backseat.

That was the last he ever saw of any of them, though it was not the last he heard of the girl, Phoenicia Halliwell, nor of Augustus Cavil.

The newspapers the day before he and his family fled to the sanctuary of New Avalon to join the resistance, sadly proclaimed that Augustus Cavil had committed suicide. He had injected himself with lethal doses of medications he had stolen from the facility he worked in, and had passed away quietly in his sleep. The doctor's family had no explanation of his sudden departure, the article has stated, and it would bring a full inquiry and inventory of the department where he had worked. All the man had left behind was a note, one that read '_Goodbye, my love…_"

And the Halliwell family was renowned to even the youngest of witches and demons alike, and among those of the Resistance, their words were law.

Not only were they the founders of the Resistance itself, they were also the ones who had created the Stronghold of New Avalon, hidden and protected city where everyone could live in houses of their own, plenty of food to ensure no one went starving because all of it was grown and conjured with simple magic.

Daniel and his family were immediately placed in a home that was twice the size of the one they had lived in before, and the only thing the Resistance had asked for in return was an oath that they would not willingly betray the location of the Stronghold to anyone else who was not also part of the Resistance, or at least willing to join their cause.

Or at least… that is what Phoenicia had foreseen.

Those events would not happen for a few more hours, and by then she would have vanished completely off of the face of the known world to help her other half with the predicament he had managed to get himself in to. She had to be very exact in her timing, otherwise her mind would be lost to the abyss and by the time she finally managed to become lucid again, she could have been anywhere. She would have to postpone everything, and that wouldn't due.

Phoenicia had already saved the life of the woman, Jenny, who was by now already halfway to the safe house she had pointed her to and would likely be in New Avalon by morning. It was the least Phoenicia could do after all. Jenny was not a witch, and the reason she had no active powers was because she had no powers at all. She had only married a witch. And Cavil… he had been left heartbroken when she had stolen away when he had been too preoccupied with avoiding anyone who could possibly spot their notice.

A part of her felt gilt for causing his infatuation with her, only to abandon him so suddenly, though she ruthlessly squashed that feeling, recalling that not even an hour ago he had been joking about her possibly being resubmitted to the breeding programs. This death would be cleaner than the one he deserved.

And now she was treading down a vaguely familiar path. The park was hardly recognizable since the last time she had seen it. She had been twelve then… she was seventeen now. The once emerald and lime green hues that had covered the ground of the rolling hills were now vacant of all life. There was no grass, only brown, charred weeds that covered in black soot from the war torn sky.

The bright flowers that had been so carefully planted and cared for were now dry and wilted. Most of the trees still stood, though their branches had all been cut down cruelly. The sky was blackened with smoke and other pollutions, a foul stench in the air that was a far cry from the antiseptic, almost too clean smell of the hospital that she was now accustomed to. She could scarcely recognize this place and she doubted that her unstable mind had much to do with the difference.

The world itself had become a warzone. What were the uses of parks if not battlefields?

Though at the moment, this area of the park was relatively bare of human or demon life. The closest she could sense anyone at the moment was at least thirty yards away from her current location, and there was still a pillar of dark smoke blocking her from view. Still, years of being practically tortured into submission had garnered a healthy dose of caution, even if she was not always in the right state of mind.

The young woman tiptoed her way down to a secret location, pleased to see that, even with all of the destruction around her, this one place was still sacred.

It was relatively untouched, and it had seemingly gone unnoticed even if it was the only green among the black smog. Only four people in the entire world knew about this place, could even see it… well, technically there were five, but _he _did not count because that would just be counting the same person twice, now wouldn't it?

It was just a cave, strong enchantments protecting the ivy and moss that hit the mouth from view, and there was even another spell that rendered the cave itself unnoticeable. It was just a small haven.

Smiling slightly, she stepped inside, a cloak of darkness encasing her until she walked in further. Her presence caused the torches to spring to life, the golden glow from them making her pause, her eyes trying to adjust to the new brightness, soft and dim as it was. With a deep inhale of breath, she discovered that the air in here was much more pleasant, of burning cedar and spiced apples along with the faintest traces of dirt from the earth below. She pressed onward.

When she finally came upon the dead end, the true door to the grotto that had once belonged to her other half, she paused. Her eyes searched the walls around the hidden doorway, for she did not wish to enter his sacred space even if he had long ago given her permission to do so. All she wanted was four little objects, ones that had no monetary value.

Their value was worth more than money to her.

It did not take her long to find the objects she was searching for. Four gemstones, all encased into the rock. They were arranged and aligned with the four corners and the elements. One was an emerald, dark and bright, streaked through with obsidian and speckles of gold. Another was a blood red ruby, melded seamlessly together with garnet and amber swirls. An amethyst mixed with waves of aquamarine and splashes of white crystals. And the last, a simple clear cubic zirconium, surrounded by a white quartz cluster.

Each was only the size of a small marble, and each gave off the feel of a powerful aura that she could sense from where she stood even.

Slender fingers wrapped around the stone that belonged to her, the zirconium and quartz. She plucked it right out of the wall of the cave and unraveled the chain that was attached to it by nothing by air before she settled it around her neck. A warm, pleasant feeling washed over her like a gentle caress, her magic reaching out to reunite with the piece she had placed in the gem. She took the other stones after a moment of hesitation, and secured them around her left wrist. The feelings they evoked from her were greatly different, and they all embraced her with something akin to emotion.

One was like planted her feet onto the ground, steady and sure, another was all heat and passion, and the last was calm and soothing. And one thing they all had in common… was love. She could feel it resonating from each stone.

It grounded her enough so that she could continue on to the next phase in her plan. Closing her eyes in a deep concentration, she grasped at the stone around her neck tightly and began a slow chant. It was a simple spell, demanding and sure, asking only to be taken to a true sanctuary. Somewhere she could safely carry out the rest of her plan.

Once she finished speaking the last words, she felt her magic surge out from her core and through her skin, reacting strongly and flaring around her as it began to obey her request. The cave melted from her view in a blitz of white glowing spheres, the light warm and comforting, and she suddenly rematerialized in New Avalon itself, in a room that was as secret and sacred as the cave had been. No one would be able to find her in here.

New Avalon was hidden deep below the surface of the Pacific Ocean, on the very floor of it. She had been among those to build this safe haven, though back then it had only been a project, something they kept hidden from their parents. It had originally been smaller, built as a kind of clubhouse just for them.

Kind of ironic when she thought about how it had grown into what was now considered the Stronghold of the Resistance, one of the most magically advanced civilizations in the entire world.

The design of the city itself was simple—a citadel rested at the tallest peak, crafted by powerful magic and surrounded by newly erected homes for those who now resided here. These newcomers had thus built markets and other stores, despite the fact that money held no value here. Surrounding the city itself was a wall of salty sea water, the dark blue depths illuminated by the glow of the city, fish and other sea creature venturing too close. The water was kept at bay by an invisible force, the same force that provided the artificial sunlight and oxygen for everyone—the wards.

The wards were nothing more than a floating sphere of pure magical energy, and it was hidden in the tallest tower of the citadel. It shown of brilliant colors of azure, emerald, ruby and a blazing white, always intermingling and blending together in a beautiful dance for dominance that could never be won. There were no windows and no walls surrounding this energy, letting the light it emitted be cast upon the city and the surroundings, like sunlight.

No doors led to this precious tower, and no one other than the keeper of the wards and a few select others were even permitted near, the denizens of New Avalon kept away for their own protection by none other than the wards themselves. And this particular young woman happened to be one of the select few.

As the she stood, her eyes her eyes sought out this energy, and she felt a hum of _something_ surge through her, grazing her body and swirling around her in obvious excitement. The wards welcomed her, recognizing that a piece of her magic also resided within the mass of color and light.

The young woman smiled in reply, the brief touch of energy enough to help keep her mind clear of muddled and random thoughts.

Wards where simple in theory—draw a few runes to describe what you wish them to do, offer some blood set in stones and bind the wards around the area that needs to be protected, and chant long a litany of spellwork. Of course, all the while you are praying that you do not pass out from magical exhaustion.

The wards of New Avalon differed slightly in that aspect.

When these wards had originally been cast, they had been young children experimenting with magic they only thought they understood, and as such, had not been as prepared for what the consequences of casting them would be.

_One_ person and one person alone would have to do it all. This one person would draw the runes for the wards, would have to offer their own lifeblood to tie the wards, would have to bind the wards to the area they wished to protect, and this one person would be the one to chant the spell to galvanize it all.

As ignorant children, it had been an oversight that had turned out to be a blessing in disguise. They had _all_ drawn the runes, because each of them had wanted to add their own special runes and enchantments to protect this secret place. Wyatt had created the spells that kept the ocean away, Chris added the enchantment that kept a nice even temperature, and she had provided them all with an unlimited source of breathable air. The more lethal additions had been created for by Luke, and not for the city itself but for the defense of it.

Each of them had given their blood for the bloodstones to bind the wards, creating the boundaries, which had since then expanded with the surge of population. And when it had come time to chant in order to activate the runes, they had all taken several turns when one felt as if they could not go on any longer.

In doing so, pouring so much magic from four unique and powerful individuals, these wards were different from others because their actions had incidentally made the wards sentient. A true sentient entity, with individual thoughts and feelings, just like any human being would have.

Unlike with other wards, these could govern themselves, and knew when certain spots in its protective barriers became vulnerable, either correcting the decay on its own or contacting one of the keepers to inform that something was wrong. And now, with this war going on, the wards would weed out those within the faction who were defecting and disloyal to the cause, casting them out of the walls of the city safely, leaving them with no memory of ever having been there or even of New Avalon's existence.

Phoenicia smiled softly to herself as the energy of the wards retreated from her person, and she silently requested to this entity that her presence would remain hidden from the keeper of the wards until she was gone. It would only disrupt her plan if she were to be found by her older cousin.

The magic in the air seemed to resonate with disappointment, though as she had asked, the gentle tendrils of magic circled her one last time before they left her alone entirely, though she sent out one last feeling of gratefulness to the wards for understanding her plight.

Closing her eyes and concentrating inwardly, the young woman began what she came here to do, reaching into her very soul with her mind. She had needed to come to this room because here, in this safe haven, she could attempt the impossible without any interruption.

The young woman blocked out everything about her surroundings, so deep within her concentration that even her own breath was nothing but a soft and barely distinguishable noise in the background. All of her thoughts and emotions were centered solely on opening her senses for one specific purpose.

It was time to find her other half… it was time to find Christopher.

Being one half of a whole, she was able to see his half of their soul with her inner eye—it was still attached to her own, though not in the way it should have been. It was clinging desperately to her by small, spider web-like thin strands of pure amber energy, all pulling away from her own and fading away into a single unidentifiable point in the distance. Or at least, what _should_ have been an unidentifiable point… to anyone else.

For someone such as herself, she could see the exact location where the long, thin webs had gone. And it was wrong, all so very wrong.

There should have been so many different strands connecting the two of them together, overlapping so completely that it should have been impossible to distinguish how many individual threads there were, making it look as if the two halves were one enormous sphere, encompassing each other.

It struck her quite suddenly just how lucky both her and Christopher were to even be alive at this point. Perhaps it had been his recent reappearance that had kept them both from perishing as they should have.

With a small pained noise escaping her, Phoenicia mentally tugged on one of the threads as gently as she could, a testing pull to see how much tension was on their bond. She was met with a fierce resistance, which she realized was due to the fact that this singularity was drawing the threads away unrelentingly.

In another attempt, she gathered as many threads as she could and pulled again, this time with more force, her teeth clenching tight with pain.

Nothing happened, she remained where she was instead of pulled to the side of Christopher as she had foreseen or was he pulled to her.

Phoenicia narrowed her eyes as she tried to recall her vision. She had been so sure that she could follow him to where he was if she placed enough tension of their bond. She had already seen the outcome of fulfilling this phase in her plan, although… she had never actually seen _how_ she fulfilled this particular step.

Perhaps she had come about it differently.

The wards brushed against her once more, though this time it guided her face downward. She had designed the floor of this tower. They had each tweaked and added to everything about their citadel, wanting it to be as architecturally beautiful as they could manage, even though they had been too young to appreciate architectural beauty.

This particular design for the floor had been all her own. Being one who, in a way, existed out of time, she had wanted this tower to reflect her in some way, and so, she had crafted all the white marble tiles into a mosaic of a clock face, obsidian roman numerals though no hands, to represent the infinity of time.

_Oh_, she thought distantly, cursing herself for not thinking of this sooner.

Phoenicia blamed it on her absent mind. "Goodbye, my friend," she whispered to the wards and she breathed deeply.

Fingers twitched as sparks raced between the digits, and a small smirk appeared on her lips as she glanced at them. She brought her hand up in a wave, to bid the bundle of energy farewell, all the while her body pulsed and her skin tingled with power.

This time when the young woman closed her eyes to concentrate on her soul, she knew why it had not worked the first time. So when she gathered the amber threads, taking her time to capture every single one, this time she also accessed her own unique power—the power that had kept her alive for this long, that the government and her family alike had always coveted.

And she made a pleading request to the source of this power, knowing that for her plan to succeed, that she would first have to offer something precious in return. But as equally precious and reviled as what she would give up was, she needed Christopher even more, just as he needed her. For they would both surely die should their bond be strained like this for much longer.

And with this exchange, her skin began to glow.

It began with just her hands, a soft light emitting from her pale skin, but soon it worked its way up her arms and chest and her neck before it surged down her abdomen all the way down to her feet until no part of her was left unaffected by the luminescent radiance.

The light only continued to brighten after it had encompassed her entire body, making the bright lights provided by the wards, which acted as the sun of the city of New Avalon, seem dim in comparison.

All the inhabitants of this hidden stronghold paused in their daily activities to stare in awe and wonder as no corner of the city was left untouched by this sudden and blinding illumination. And before anyone could so much as blink to adjust their eyes to this new brightness, the light faded out of existence just as suddenly as it had appeared, vanishing without a trace…

… along with its source.

**¸.·´¯·»¸.·´¯·»****End****«·´¯·.¸«·´¯·.¸  
¸.·´¯·»****Chapter****«·´¯·.¸**

Hello everyone,

Alight, I hope you all enjoyed reading this newly revised chapter. I'll admit that I am extremely nervous about posting this right now. You see, this is the first time I will be posting without the approval of someone very dear to me. He was always my go-to guy. In fact, he was the one who told me that that I should rewrite this before I lost inspiration. It seems more… real, I suppose, and more developed now.

Hope you all enjoyed it!

Lynx


	3. The Reunion

**Finding Yourself  
The Reunion**

**Sunday, November 23****rd****, 2003  
**In the bright and early hours of the morning, deep beneath the surface of the pacific ocean, there was an odd occurrence. The dark depths were suddenly illuminated by an unnatural flash of white and silver, scaring the local inhabitants of fish and other sea creatures into their hiding places among the coral and rocks and sand. When the light faded, the only evidence that something had occurred was the lone figure floating lifelessly, drifting towards the ocean floor…

Unbeknownst to this figure, her magic had already acted on her behalf of its own accord where she could not in her unconscious state—the pressure of the sea at this depth did not affect her in the slightest, nor did the need for oxygen when the bubbles that escaped her mouth suddenly expanded and surrounded her face with fresh air to breathe. Her body stopped drifting down and began rising towards the surface above her sleeping form. By the time her face had breached the surface, she began to stir.

When she finally opened her eyes, a strange mix of ice blue and steel gray, it took her a few moments to process where exactly she was. With a muted gasp, she propelled herself out of the water with a burst of air, blinking the water rapidly from her eyes as her white drawstring pants and shirt dripped and distorted the glassy water while she floated above it. Her mind was in chaos and she found it hard to remember how exactly she came to be here.

A gust of wind grazed her face in welcome and she gazed around with confused and curious eyes. Her body was tired, as was her mind, and the continuous use of her telekinesis to keep her above the water was becoming somewhat of a strain. After going so long without using much of her magic, she was weaker and it took too much effort to use so much at once. She had no intention of falling back into the suffocating water, and attempted to do something to rectify this situation that she hadn't done in years…

Pulling at her magic, begging it to comply, she arched her back and imagined it happening in her mind—two pearly white wings shot out from each shoulder blade, extending six feet each way. When her eyes opened, there were white feathers littering the surface of the water, a few of which were splattered with blood. In some way, the fact that there was blood concerned her, and when she looked at her hands she realized why—she had only accomplished a partial transformation. There had been no pain from this, though there should have been, she realized distantly. Her mind was too calm. She couldn't think straight. Whatever lucidness she had achieved was steadily failing her.

With slight concern, she knew she had to get somewhere safe before she lost this moment completely. She peered around, worrying her bottom lip as she tried to determine where she was exactly. Everything looked vaguely familiar, though she could scarcely recall why. Wings working behind her, she rose steadily into the sky, looking for any familiar landmarks she could distinguish to give her a clue where she was. After about six minutes of searching just below the clouds, she spotted a colossal structure extended over a body of water that she could recognize almost instantly. It was a suspension bridge, the Golden Gate Bridge to be precise.

Elated, the young woman soared and landed gracefully atop one of the truss archways. There, she collapsed in an exhausted heap. Sighing in irritation, she closed her eyes and searched internally for the threads of her aura. Hers was brighter than it had been previously, as were the fiery amber threads—Chris. Instead of being pulled into oblivion, they were simply spread across a short distance not far from where she was. A slight smile lit her face when she realized he was so close—she'd been sure she would have to search the entire world to find him, possibly even farther than that if he had been exploring the depths of the Underworld.

Without bothering to consider the consequences of her actions, as she would have had she been able to think properly, she gathered all of the threads and gave them the hardest tug she could manage—the results were instantaneous, and even her too calm and absent mind felt it this time. An unimaginable pain surged through her entire being, beginning in her chest. It burned and raged and she fell back with a cry, her breathing feeling constricted. She clawed at her chest, searching for a way to stave the feeling. Her body was on fire, her very soul being ravaged by it and there was nothing that she could do to stop it.

Outwardly, her body showed no evidence of what she felt internally, and as the edges of her vision finally began to fade once more, she felt an intense presence join her consciousness, familiar and loving and most definitely welcome in her mind. She instinctively sought it out for reassurance before she finally succumbed to the blissful and painlessness of oblivion. High above the busy street she laid in stillness, while the busy world around her remained completely unaware of her presence. If anyone was to see her, long pearly wings pooling her in a faux halo of bloodied feathers, they would think her to be a fallen angel.

Only a select few could sense her… and only one knew exactly where to find her.

Several miles away from Golden Gate Bridge, in rather sizable manor, a group of three women congregated in the attic. There were several shelves littering the wooden walls, each full of strange objects—small bottles and vials full of multicolored liquids, boxes of herbs and spices that seemed to be out of place in an attic, crystals of various shapes and sizes. There were also some trunks that held many daggers and axes and clubs. The tables were all scattered with rose petals and candles, maps and bowls. And, on the far end of the room, surrounded by crystals and sitting innocently atop a podium, was a rather thick, leather bound book.

Lying down in the image of contentment on an old dilapidated loveseat was one of these women. She seemed to be perfectly at home with all the weapons and other strange objects surrounding her, just as her companions did. Her hair was stylishly cropped short, a pen featuring various bite marks tucked behind one ear and a small notebook resting forgotten upon her stomach. Her feet were draped over the armrest and she looked as if she was ready to fall asleep in the surprisingly comfortable position, the tired yawn a confirmation of this.

Another of these women was sitting on a wooden stool, looking the exact opposite of her companion. She was haunched over the table in front of her, one hand resting lazily in her palm while the other was dangling a crystal pendulum above a large map, continuously rotating and zigzagging over it. Her blondish red hair was tied back in a messy bun, brown eyes drawn and tired. She was uncomfortable and immensely agitated, blowing a stay piece of hair out of her face every few seconds.

And the last was walking toward them both, a tray full of various breakfast treats and three mugs of steaming black coffee in her hands. Unlike the other two, she seemed to be bustling with energy. Her long dark hair had obviously been washed and dried recently, brushed to perfection and twined in a skillful and neat braid behind her, makeup subtle and adding to her beauty. No one would ever guess that she had woken not more than twenty minutes ago, in the wee hours of the morning. She had been up and ready by five o'clock and had breakfast and coffee ready not long after. She passed out the food and drinks to the other two before taking a seat upon an old wooden rocking chair, her own mug in hand.

"Any luck," she asked them, sipping thoughtfully at her own coffee as she observed their tired forms. They both shook their heads negatively, each seeming put out that she was so energetic when all they wanted was to go back to bed and never wake up. Neither gave a verbal response until their mugs were empty.

"None whatsoever," the woman with strawberry blond hair said, finally releasing her hold on the pendulum and setting it aside. She took some time to practically inhale a raspberry tart and refill her mug before speaking again. "Did Leo happen to mention _what_ we are looking for exactly? 'A surge of magical energy' isn't much to go on," she added in a low grumble.

"No," the other woman sighed sounding apologetic that she couldn't be of more help. "That's all they gave us."

"Well, I don't know about you two, but I think this royally sucks," the last said, rubbing her eyes tiredly as she sat up in the loveseat so she could drink her coffee without spilling it. "This is not how I wanted to spend my day off. I say we summon Leo's Eldery butt down here and curse him. Paige, you lock him in a crystal cage, Piper you blow him up and freeze the orbs so he stays that way for a few hours..."

Piper smiled in amusement at her sister's tone. "As fun as that might be," she began. "I don't think it'll wake you up any."

With a bleary-eyed glare, Phoebe made a displeased sound and nursed her coffee while she sulked. The three of them were contented to stay in peaceful silence for as long as they could, but it was soon broken when the baby monitor in Piper's pocket began relaying her son's demands to be changed and fed. She wasted no time and quickly made for the door, careful not to spill her drink on the way, and with a simple 'be back in a few' she was gone.

Phoebe sighed and cuddled into her makeshift bed. "So… how was your date with Richard last night?"

"Probably about the same as your date with Denis, I suppose," Paige mused with a scowl.

The shorthaired woman made a sympathetic sound. "Daren," she corrected absently. "That bad?"

"Oh, it was going great until a certain neurotic whitelighter showed up and demanded my help," complained Paige. At her sister's confused look, she elaborated. "He needed me to help him brew a bunch of different potions and bless an athemé. Since you already told him off earlier this week, and Piper still refusing to talk to him he's been coming to me for the past few days…" She shrugged. "By the time I was done helping him last night, it was past midnight and both Richard and I were too tired to do anything.

Phoebe nodded empathetically. "Maybe you should ignore him for a few days too,"

Meanwhile downstairs Piper entered the kitchen with her blue-eyed son Wyatt in her arms. After setting him down in his highchair, she grabbed an apple from the bowl on the counter and a kitchen knife. After washing, peeling and finely dicing the fruit into a bowl, she used the blunt end of a fork and proceeded to make it even easier for him to eat before placing the bowl in front of him. She watched him as he ate for a moment with a smile on her face. Her son was nearly a year old already. She marveled at this. Years ago she wouldn't have pictured herself a mother, let alone the mother of the first boy in the family for generations. Her family's reputation of girls and her small visit to the future years ago had made her expect that her child would be a girl if she ever had any, so it was an unexpected surprise when she had Wyatt, but she wouldn't trade him for anything.

Shaking her head as he bypassed the baby spoon completely and simply grabbed a handful of his snack, she began cleaning up the small mess she'd made earlier this morning. Her sisters trudged into the room minutes later and gave her sour look, the coffee pot that had been full not ten minutes ago now empty. She set about making more without having to be told and listened to their idle chatter about the men they were currently dating. While waiting for the coffee to finish brewing, she sat down in the chair beside her son and smiled.

"Can you believe how big he's gotten?" she asked her sisters, watching in slight bemusement as a small hand grabbed some apple bits and shoved them in the boy's mouth. Bright and intelligent blue eyes watched them curiously as he missed his mouth the next time and managed to smear it all over his face. Phoebe, however, snickered as she watched him.

"Are you sure he's your son, Piper?" she asked with a laugh. "I remember Grams telling stories about how any children you would have would be just as much of a neat freak as you are," The look Piper gave her was one that said she was clearly not amused, but it melted into a smirk when a handful of apples landed right in the center of Phoebe's forehead and continued to slide down her face until she grabbed a napkin to wipe it off. "Ick," she whined, her nose scrunching up in distaste. "No attacking Auntie Phoebe, Wyatt, no, no, no…:" she reprimanded in a mock-baby voice, shaking her finger at him accusingly.

The result was more food flying at her head.

Piper and Paige laughed at their sister's misfortune while she grabbed another napkin. They talked and took time to relax before they had to go back upstairs and continue their search. And while they talked, Wyatt continued to eat his snack until he felt something. He stilled almost instantly, his bright and curious eyes moving over to the door that lead into the conservatory where all his toys were.

It was Chris, the man who his mommy and aunties were always yelling at. The man was leaning against the frame of the door, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched the proceedings with an almost wistful smile on his tired face. Blue eyes caught the young man's sea-green ones and they stared at each other for a long moment. Wyatt, despite being an infant, was an extremely good judge of character. He knew when people meant him harm, and he would protect himself accordingly. However _Chris_… Chris had always confused him. Chris felt familiar, he felt like family in a way that his mommy and daddy and aunties did but Wyatt could never figure out _why_.

It wasn't until recently that Wyatt had decided that he didn't care if he didn't understand why Chris felt like family to him. Chris had proven himself as a protector, always watching over him during the night after his mommy tucked him into bed and guarding him from the demons that attacked and tried to hurt him. Sometimes Chris was even allowed to watch him during the day, and the man would build cities out of blocks with him and color pictures with him and even prepare food for him to eat. Wyatt would never tell his mommy this but he like the food Chris made for him more than he liked hers because Chris wouldn't make it too mushy.

If Chris felt like family, that was all that mattered.

Though sometimes… like now… Chris would look at him without really seeing him. The young man would have this lost look on his fact, his thoughts not really on the child in front of him but on the man he would become. It was times like this that Wyatt wasn't sure that he had done something wrong that made Chris angry with him… or sad. And for reasons he couldn't explain or even understand yet, Wyatt desperately wanted Chris to like him.

The child held out a handful of food towards the older man, and blue eyes watched as Chris's expression cleared and took on an amused tilt. Chris smiled at him slightly, shaking his head in answer to the toddler's offering. If the Wyatt he had grown up with was here, Chris imagined that he'd been trying to feed him too, but that he'd take the more direct approach—i.e. shoving the food down his throat. It was times like these when he wished he owned a camera because it would give him all the best blackmail material he'd ever need—the great Prince of Darkness, covering in sludge known as apple mush.

Bringing a finger up to his lips, Chris gave a deliberate glance at the sisters, signaling to the boy that he didn't want them to know that he was there. The toddler pouted, having wanted Chris to join him while he ate his snack, but obediently went back to eating his food without giving his mother and his aunts any indication that Chris was present, though with less enthusiasm than before. Chris could sense his disappointment just by looking at him, and laughed to himself. Whoever said that Wyatt wouldn't understand everything going on around him because he was just a baby was an idiot, he decided, giving a subtle wave to the child as he snuck away.

It wouldn't be good if the sisters found him here.

They were all growing steadily more annoyed and distrustful of him, and with what happened on Piper's birthday a few weeks ago and him letting a demon into Wyatt's room—never mind that that _shadow demons_ were inherently neutral and hated most conflict—he had lost whatever trust Phoebe and Paige had in him. He knew for a fact that Piper had never trusted him to begin with, no matter how much it hurt him to admit that.

If it hadn't been for Leo's surprising and abrupt interference on his behalf, he was sure that none of the sisters would have ever spoken to him again. Yes he had been kicked out of his room at the club, and he wasn't allowed to be inside the manor without them knowing—not that they knew when he was in it to begin with—but he could have been worse off than just a few harsh… _incredibly_ harsh words and no place to sleep. Why did he have to be such a screw up all the time? No matter how hard he tried to help, he always seemed to make it worse…

At least Leo had been able to talk the girl's down enough to where he was allowed to ask them for help again. If not for the Elder, Chris wasn't sure he would have been able to get Paige to help him with all the healing potions he needed. He had known early on that the sisters were a bit lax when it came to their duties, but he hadn't know really _how_ lax until he'd become their whitelighter. Therefore, since he couldn't get them to go on simple and routine hunting trips, he had thus taken it upon himself to continue hunting the soulless demons that he was sure posed a serious threat. For weeks, even before the big fallout with the sisters, he had been venturing out every night, armed with only the bare minimum of powers to protect him, while he dedicated his days to doing research.

Unfortunately this schedule left him with only an hour or two of sleep… every other day or so. And considering he wasn't allowed to set foot in the club without being bodily removed by the bouncers these past few weeks, and he could not purchase a room for the night either considering that he had no money, and he couldn't get a job because he, in fact, did not exist yet and had no social security or any background whatsoever… he hadn't been able to sleep much, especially ever since he'd been evicted from Golden Gate Park after sleeping on one of the benches more than once. And he'd though he'd grown up in hell? This was worse! The only reason he didn't smell like the dumpster he'd tried sleeping next to three days ago—before the police nearly caught him on suspicion of a murder that occurred just down the alleyway—is because he'd snuck into the university dorms as a student coming home trashed after a rave and used the showers.

Still, he would have traded in that shower for something to eat right about now. The last thing he ate was just some food a nice woman had been about to throw away after her picnic, but had given it to him when he'd asked for it. She had returned five minutes later with another plate of food and a bottle of water. Chris vowed to himself that he'd return her kindness somehow someday.

Abruptly, Chris came to a halt about halfway up the stairs.

All morning he'd felt as if something was… off. He hadn't been able to figure out what he was missing. And now, something was happening and he didn't understand it. A hand rose absently to his chest where he felt a sharp pull. It felt as if something was trying to forcefully rip his soul out—he felt a brief moment of panic, wondering if _they_ had finally discovered him and planned on turning him into what he had always despised. The pulling became more insistent, and the young man cried out as he collapsed, rolling down the stairs he had climbed and ending up sprawled out at the base of them. The fall left him dazed and his ribs began to hurt—he curled into himself, pulling his knees to his chest and grasping at the space just above his heart, his eyes watering involuntarily from the sheer pain. He was freezing, his teeth chattering as an icy wind gripped him from the inside.

A soft, gentle hand settled on his shoulder, startling him. He lifted his head as much as he could and was stunned to see chocolate brown eyes peering at him in concern. It was Piper. Piper who hated his very existence, who thought he was only here to ruin her life. But why was she here, acting as if she cared that he was in pain? He was only the neurotic whitelighter from the future who she never wanted to see again, right? So why did she look at him how he'd always pictured she should? Like his mother would have? It must have been his mind playing tricks on him, wishful thinking, but Chris didn't have much time to think on it because he felt ready to die.

The pain he was in was enough to cause his vision to blacken. He didn't want this. He had to leave, he had to get out of here. He didn't want to show weakness in front of them, to cry in front of them. And they didn't want him here anyway, Piper especially. Maybe Piper had cursed him because she caught him sneaking around her house. The thought made his heart ache but it was the only explanation he had. In a desperate attempt to leave, he rolled onto his knees and made to get up, but the ice had spread to his veins and he couldn't get them to respond properly so that when he did manage to get to his feet, he swayed dangerously and fall back onto his knees, unable to hold the position.

Something warm and soothing and wet swept down his cheeks and it took him several moments to discover that it was his own tears. He didn't even have the energy to wipe them away. All he could do was breathe and even that turned out to be a rather difficult task. When his vision cleared, he finally noticed that he and Piper were not the only ones standing in front of the stairs. Phoebe and Paige were behind her, a very scared and concerned Wyatt secured safely in his Aunt Phoebe's arms. And another addition, dressed in a formal set of golden robes that shimmered and shined, his blond hair loose and wild as he knelt down to Chris's level.

Chris hadn't heard anyone call for the Elder. He hadn't even heard the bell-like sound that accompanied the blue and white spheres of orbing. Leo was attempting to talk to him, he realized belatedly. He could see the older man's lips moving, but Chris had to concentrate to disconcert any sounds because all he could hear was his own heart beating rapidly against his hurt ribs and the flow of blood waging war in his brain.

"Are you okay?" the older man asked. Chris swallowed thickly and tried one last time to stand, all the while nodding his head. He had not anticipated the intense wave of dizziness and nausea that followed his actions, and he stumbled right into Leo's arms by accident, dry heaving as he collapsed once more. "Easy there, buddy," the Elder said soothingly as he tried to steady him, reminding Chris so much of his father in that one moment that it just added to the pain.

In response to Leo's actions, Chris could only mutter something undistinguishable.

And then something swelled inside of the young man that reflected outwardly on his skin for the briefest of moments—his aura flared impossibly bright, crimson and amber before blending in with an opaque silver. It danced over his skin, and Chris keened painfully, burying his face into Leo's neck, seeking protection in his warmth. The Elder held onto him tightly, not knowing what else to do for him other than try to offer comfort. He wrapped his arms around the thin frame, somewhat startled at how small the boy was.

It was then the Elder realized something about the way the silver and amber auras began twining together, in a pattern he began to recognize. If Leo didn't know any better, he would have to say that Chris was being forced to enter a soul bond. But that had to be wrong, because it was impossible. Only soulmates and astral twin could hold a bond like this, but twins could only bond at birth. And for a soulmate bond, Chris would have had to be in the middle of… the Elder flushed, not entirely sure he wanted to broach the subject of Chris's love life. And the boy seemed to be in pain not… _pleasure_. Therefore a soulmate bond was out of the question.

Chris finally lost consciousness and Leo ran his fingers through the boy's sweaty hair as the glow faded from his skin. He looked to the sisters hesitantly, before his training as a healer kicked in and he ordered his wife and sister-in-laws to clean off the couch in the conservatory and get some cold compresses and some blankets. Leo himself carried the boy, who was far too easy to carry, and laid him down to begin assessing his condition.

Besides a slight unexplainable fever, Leo was unable to find much else wrong, other than he discovered that, when he tried to take Chris's pulse, the boy's wrist was so small that Leo could overlap his own fingers quite easily. It was rather disconcerting and when he considered how much someone in Chris's age group was supposed to weigh and how much Leo estimated he _did_ weigh. The boy had to be under weight by at least twenty or thirty pounds. Leo kept his thoughts to himself, however, unsure how comfortable Chris would feel if he were to blurt out his personal information, no matter how blaringly obvious it was if someone were to actually _look_ at him.

After several failed attempts to heal him, Leo finally dismissed the girls, letting them go see if they could find any curses that caused Chris's symptoms. Leo opted to stay with Chris, as the one with the most medical knowledge, and tried to keep him as comfortable as possible. He used a cool washrag to wipe the small beads of sweat off of the younger man's forehead, all the while paying much more attention to the little things he hadn't noticed before.

There was something different about Chris, he noticed as he observed him. Without the permanent scowl or self-assured smirk on his face, he looked surprisingly young and unguarded. The Elder was shocked to discover that, rather than the twenty-two years the boy had claimed to be, he looked more in his mid or late teens, though Leo chalked it up to the boy's unconscious state rather than anything else. But the Elder also noted, with a bit of concern and guilt, that Chris had _so many scars_. They were everywhere—several around his neck, long and straight, like a wire had been wrapped around the vulnerable flesh and pulled as tight as possible. Some around his wrists, either handcuffs or some other form of manacles… and some long, jagged ones following the path of the vein that seemed as if they had been self-inflicted. Some of them were still raw and pink… recent. Leo had never noticed any of them before, maybe perhaps because he had been so obsessed with finding out the reason Chris had traveled to the past to begin with that he hadn't really cared, but it made him worry what he'd find if he'd give Chris a more thorough examination.

If Chris would ever let him, that is, because Leo refused to do so without his consent. The boy would probably be furious if he ever found out that Leo already knew about the scars he had just discovered. Sighing at his own thoughts, he watched as Chris shifted ever so slightly, the skin between his eyebrows becoming pinched.

The Elder placed a gentle hand behind the boy's neck and lifted him up a bit to adjust the pillow in a more comfortable way. His fingers brushed against something, causing him to still. He knew the scars must have run all the way around his neck but this was higher than the scars from what Leo could only guess to be caused from a wire of some sort. This was more of a cluster of smooth upraises than a several long continuous ones. Frowning deeply, Leo gently shifted the boy onto his side so that he was facing the back of the couch, leaning in closer so he could inspect the back of his neck. The Elder did not like what he found. The skin was melted and fused together into a picture of an eagle in a circle, wings spread in midflight, an olive branch in one set of talons and arrows in the other, and words overlapping it.

It was a brand.

_1115502_  
_Class A  
Special Breed  
Property of the US_

"Dear God," Leo breathed out in shock, fingering the smooth brand with horror. Who would do such a thing? The scar tissue looked to be several years old, giving Leo the impression that Chris had to have gotten it when he was still considered a child. Who could do something like this to a child? He didn't understand it. Children were precious, how could someone hurt a child like this? Is this why Chris had not been concerned about not being allowed to return to the future after he'd first arrived? Because he did not _want_ to return to a place where people were branded like cattle?

The Elder didn't even realize that his hands had begun trembling until a rather warm one enclosed around his to steady it. Leo blinked and watched as Chris rolled over, still holding onto his hand which was now being held over the boy's chest. Tired sea green eyes gazed around the room in confusion, seeming even more confused when they came to rest on Leo.

"Hey dad…" he whispered in a quiet, disoriented voice and Leo hadn't the heart to correct him. "What's wrong?"

Leo swallowed the lump in his throat. "The scar… on the back of your neck…"

"Oh," Chris chuckled, though it was a vacant laugh, absent of any humor. "The mark? I told you before you can't heal it. I don't know why you even try… even Elders can't heal scars." Blinking stupidly at the revelation that not only had Chris been the son of a whitelighter as they'd thought, but an _Elder_, Leo had to force himself to respond.

"When did you get it?"

Chris frowned slightly, confusion still prominent. "When the _W.E.C.D._ first caught me. I was…" He bit his lip thoughtfully. "Almost fifteen, I think. They put me in the same encampment as Isaac and Mia, you know,"

"What's the W.E.C.D., Chris?"

"Hmm?" Chris blinked, taking several moments to process the question. The look he gave Leo was one that said Chris thought he was incredibly dense for not knowing something so common. "The _Witch Extermination_ and _Control Department_. They caught me you know… I saw Mia once. They brought her in so they could determine who was among the high levels or lows…" He grinned tiredly. "One of the guards sent a shock to her implant when she wouldn't—she broke his neck without even looking at him. Served him right… "

Feeling somewhat sick to hear the sheer pride in his voice, Leo continued asking questions. "What did they do to you, Chris?" he asked calmly, trying not to let any of the horror and anger he was feeling show on his face.

"Sent me to an arena… they trained us… brainwashed," he sighed. "Taught us how to kill… I never felt bad about killing most demons because they always tried to kill me first and they had no souls so it didn't matter. But we were all prisoners there. Some of them became my friends… had to kill each other to pass tests… only twelve of us made it out alive during the first escape. Isaac was with me but we had to leave Mia behind…"

"How could they make a fifteen year old boy kill to survive?" Leo asked, mostly to himself, but he got an answer anyway. Chris's smile was bitter, and sad, and so damned heartbreaking that Leo wished he would have kept his damned mouth shut.

"They don't care… we're nothing but weapons anyway,"

Leo shook his head. "No. You're not a weapon Chris," he told him firmly.

"I am," Chris disagreed, looking up at the Elder with a detached look in his eyes. "I'm a Class A… one of the elite. There are only four Class A's in existence, and I'm one of them. The other two haven't been caught yet… and the other was taken to the Breeding Facilities. She gave em' hell tho'" he slurred, his eyes drifting shut as he began drifting back to sleep.

Leo felt his mouth go dry, and he couldn't resist asking one more question. He was already in too deeply; why not learn as much as he could before Chris clammed up. "Breeding Facilities?"

Oblivious to the man's inner turmoil, Chris just nodded as he settled back against the pillow. "Mmm… any female witch with a body mature enough to bare children is usually taken there, 'specially if the… Breeders are really powerful… They used to let… the mothers give birth… until one of the babies was rescued… now when a child is conceived, the fetus is removed and placed in an artificial chamber where it can grow in a more controlled environment until it can be taken to the Nursery… where it will receive the initial training."

"Why would anyone do such a thing?" the Elder breathed, appalled.

Chris snuggled deeper into the covers, his eyes finally closing as he spoke one last time. "They need an army 'cause demons and witches made an alliance…" And with that he was gone, blissfully unaware of the conflicting emotional wreck he'd turned the Elder into.

Leo swallowed thickly, shaking his head as he tried to process everything he'd just heard. Chris was always so careful when he spoke to them, never showing what he was feeling or even thinking that wasn't just a mask of sarcasm. Leo was smart enough to realize that had Chris had not been on the verge of passing out again he would have never said as much or anything that revealing, and even if he had… none of them would have believed it. Perhaps it was because Chris was so out of it, unguarded, that made Leo compelled to believe him… even if he wished what Chris had said was just another lie.

As much as he wanted to deny it all, he knew he couldn't…

"Any change?"

Leo started at the sudden question, turning swiftly to look behind him. It was the sisters, each looking much more exhausted then the last. Even Piper looked haggard. He shook his head in answer to Paige's question—out of all of them she seemed to be the one who held the least animosity for Chris. Still, Leo debated weather or not he should mention anything about what he'd learned… until his wife made the decision for him.

"I still say we should let him take care of his own damn problems," she muttered resentfully. Leo gave her a disheartened look, knowing that if he did tell her about it she would turn it around and make it seem like Chris was just vying for sympathy. Piper noticed the look he was giving her. "What?" she snapped defensively.

Leo just shook his head, keeping his mouth shut. He wouldn't expose what he'd learned, at least not until Piper learned to let go of her resentment. And from what he'd seen over the past few weeks, Leo doubted that he'd be telling anyone for a long, long time. In the meantime, he vowed he'd be more attentive to Chris. He knew that the kid went demon hunting every night—perhaps he wouldn't mind a bit of company to help him out? If anything, surely he'd need someone to heal him if he gets hurt.

The day continued on in a slow manner and they each took turns watching over the young man, Leo offering to do so the most just in case Chris woke again and said something that Leo knew he'd wish he hadn't. But Chris didn't stir again, he didn't even move. Several times the girls would watch closely to see if he was even breathing still. Lunch came and went without any mishaps and it wasn't until the evening that they began discussing the possibility of getting outside help to see if there was another way to help the whitelighter.

That was when Phoebe let out a startled cry—it was her turn to watch over Chris, and she'd sat down in a chair right across from him, her laptop resting in her lap while she worked on next week's column. Everything had been fine until Chris had suddenly bolted up, the blankets covering him falling down to pool at his waist, starling Phoebe so badly that she had nearly dropped her computer as she screamed.

The young man's green eyes were wide and appeared to be shimmering with an outlined translucent silver ring, directly around the pupil of his eyes. His chest was heaving as he gasped for breath, and he was blinking rapidly with a look of pure unconcealed shock etched across his features. Phoebe tried several times to get his attention, but Chris was too deep in thought to have even heard her. His thoughts were strange in a way they hadn't been in years, jumbled and confused and not entirely his own.

Chris shook his head in a physical attempt to clear it, trying to sort through everything he was feeling. He remembered climbing the stairs, remembered the pain and the icy chill of wind and falling… and then the feeling of being whole, complete. And he only had one possible explanation for it all, as impossible as it seemed. Because _she_ couldn't possibly be here—she wasn't coherent enough to _write_ a time travel spell and actually repeat it accurately to open a portal or anything like that… and as far as he knew, her powers were just about as bound as his own, only telekinesis and clairvoyance, whereas he had his telekinesis and orbing.

… Although… he _had _been gone for quite some time.

Absently licking his dry lips, Chris forced himself to relax enough to close his eyes and seek out his core—in his mind's eye, his soul was a fiery amber blaze, trapped in an embrace of millions upon millions of silvery opaque strands that he knew belonged to _one_ person. He opened his eyes in a daze, feeling elated and apprehensive all at once. She _was_ here, and he knew he should be worried for his safety since the last person who followed him back in time, his fiancée in fact, had attempted to end his life, but he knew that _she_ would never do something like that. Phoenicia would never betray him. Ever. Despite the fact that she was inherently incapable of doing any wrong, especially in his eye, she loved him too damn much to ever betray him. He was more concerned about her.

It was a real possibility that he'd done something here in the past that may have changed her future. It was what he hoped, but then again he couldn't think of anything he could have done that would've affected her life. He had been concentrating too much on changing the world and helping his brother, rather than his beloved cousin, his sister in all senses of the word. Mostly because he had kind of been hoping that by changing the world, he would heal her regardless because then she wouldn't have been incarcerated to begin with. Chris was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't realize that Leo and the sisters were trying so hard to get his attention, to give them some clue that he wasn't blacking out again… he didn't even feel the pressure of Leo's hands on his shoulder as they tried to rouse him.

There was only one thing on Chris's mind—finding her.

And without even bothering to find out where he was going exactly, Chris disappeared in a burst of blue and white spheres, the soft bell-like sound signaling his disappearance. They could do little more than stare at the couch he'd been resting on for the past twelve hours.

Piper was the first to come out of her shock. "Where did he go?" she demanded, eyes wide. She turned to her husband, who already had his eyes closed as he reached his senses out for Chris's now familiar presence. He was just preparing to inform them where their young friend had gone when the boy suddenly reappeared… with a petite girl wrapped securely in his arms. The four of them all watched in bewilderment as Chris placed the girl on the couch where he'd been not moments before, adjusting her carefully and doing his utmost best to avoid jolting the long angelic wings extending from her back… both of which were currently stained with a rust-like substance that they all recognized as dried blood.

The girl was still injured, as made obvious by the fresh rivulets of blood streaming down her back as Chris arranged her on her stomach. When Leo stepped closer so he could attempt to heal her wounds, the answering glare Chris gave him was fierce and promised pain should he take another step. The look in his eyes was irrational, territorial… almost animalistic. Leo could only back away slowly, his hands held up in universal surrender. Once Chris was satisfied the Elder wouldn't try anything, he returned his attention onto the girl, kneeling down beside the couch as he pushed a stray strand of her short hair away from her face.

Chris stroked his cousin's soft, dark hair as he waited for her to wake up. He gave her a mental nudge, knowing already that no… he had not changed anything. If he had, he was certain she wouldn't be hurt right now. She would have known to retract the wings when she couldn't make a full transformation. And he could not heal the wound until she did.

Feeling pained, he untied all the remaining intact ties holding her shirt together and brushed it aside to observe the damage. Moving her from atop the trusses of the bridge had been enough to reopen the wounds, which seemed to have begun sealing over already if the scabs were anything to go by. If the skin were to close around the wings completely, it would be more painful for her to pull them in. He also could not allow the wound to close again, as he knew it was doing. He blamed it on the fan across the room, which suspiciously shorted out when he glared at it briefly—no one noticed, thankfully. Bracing himself, Chris rubbed soothingly at the small of her back with one hand while the other rose to the base of the wings and pulled the torn skin open wider.

Among the gasps of disgust and horror from the other side of the room, as well as the shuffled of feet as they all moved closer to stop him, there was a quiet moan of protest. He ignored it all and reopened the wounds on all sides of the wings methodically. When he was finally finished with his sickening task, he ran his clean hand through her hair once more. She leaned into his touch, letting out a noise that sounded suspiciously like a purr that made him smile—she was so much like a cat sometimes. He quieted his chuckles and adopted his best 'you're in trouble' look as her blue and gray eyes, both now shining with a ring of golden amber around the pupil, opened fully and began peering around.

"Hey you," he said softly, trying not to smile at her when he saw the confusion etched out across her face. He had not seen her look so healthy in years. She was still the same too-thin girl with unnaturally pale skin he had left behind when he went on this mission, but there was a certain glow about her that he couldn't remember seeing for the longest time. A small delicate hand reached up to his face and he felt her poke the freckle on his nose.

In response, he touched a fingertip to the birthmark on her cheek.

"Chrissie?"

The soft questioning voice broke down any semblance of control he had achieved, and he hugged her as best as he could from his position on the floor, still mindful that she was injured. "Yeah, it's me." he answered her, placing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Can you do me a favor? I need you to retract your wings so I can heal you," She looked at him unresponsively for a moment and then glanced back at the to the two aforementioned appendages.

With a look of concentration on her face, nose scrunched, eyes pinched, and tongue sticking almost comically out of the corner of her mouth, the two unnatural limbs retreated into her back, leaving two large abrasions going across each shoulder blade, and a few handfuls of pearly feathers, most splattered with her blood, which scattered around them onto the floor.

"Whoa,"

Chris was reminded that he and his cousin were not alone in the room, and he glanced up at Phoebe, who had been the one to talk, and the others beside her, wondering briefly what they were thinking right now before returning to more important matters. He grabbed one of the many blankets on the couch and gently cleaned the wounds of as much blood as possible so he could heal it better. Once the flow of blood was staunched enough, he was able to get a better look, and he leaned in closely to inspect the wounds, mapping them out with his eyes and the gentlest brush of his fingers.

"I thought you couldn't heal," Piper stated accusingly.

"I said I don't have healing _powers_," he corrected smoothly, before taking a deep breath and blowing on the cuts across her back. The area scabbed over quickly, and he repeated this several times while the others just watched in idle disbelief. Leo was by far the most shocked as he began to realize just _what_ this girl was, even if he didn't know _who_ she was. Soon nothing was left but skin, which looked a bit raw and tender but healed nonetheless. "That'll do it," Chris said as he began retying the shirt before helping her sit up.

Phoenicia smiled at him and let him wrap her in another embrace. She enjoyed being in his arms again, especially now that their bond had been restored. She could see it in his eyes—the silver ring around the black, just as hers was now surrounded by amber. She felt content just letting him hold her like this, like old times before everything had changed so horribly. But then she spotted the four people stranding off to the side and she couldn't help but tense.

A feline growl escaped deep from her throat and her eyes flashed dangerously.

"Shh, Mia," Chris said soothingly, taking her chin in his hands and directing her gaze back to him. She snapped her eyes back to the four people who had hurt her so much already, had hurt them all, unwilling to trust them to keep their distance. "Calm down, please? Everything will be fine. Nothing will happen to you, I won't allow it. I promise," His vow was solemn and honest and she unwillingly looked back at him. With reluctance, she silently agreed to trust his judgment, though not before shooting them all one last glare.

Phoenicia allowed him to help her to her feet, wiggling her bare toes against the carpet. "…Soft." she murmured and Chris smiled and placed another kiss to her forehead. He let her grasp his arm and guided her closer to the others, trying to think of a way to talk his way out of a proper explanation. Though he should have known better than to assume his cousin would just sit back and let him dissuade their questions.

Before he could even open his mouth to introduce her in a way that would keep her suitably anonymous, Phoenicia looked up and stared directly at a startled Phoebe Halliwell with a piercing gaze that had brought down men stronger and more intimidating than the little wisp of a girl seemed.

The older woman fidgeted under the eerie gaze, unsure of what to do.

"Hello mother."

**End  
Chapter**

I'd like to thank everyone for being so supportive of me these past few weeks. It really means a lot to me that you understand why I took that long leave of absence and my desire to rewrite this story, and I truly appreciate all of the emails you all have been sending me. You're all being so encouraging and patient and just so incredibly understanding about everything and I can't thank you enough for it.

Until next week,

Lynx


	4. The Reaction

**Finding Yourself  
The Reactions**

**Sunday, November 23****rd****, 2003  
**_"Hello mother."_

The words seemed to echo throughout the room and in their heads with the force of a gong going off right beside their ears. It took several minutes for Phoebe to process those words through her mind and she found herself feeling a bit faint. In fact, she was positive she was moments away from hyperventilating. Was this what Piper had felt during their impromptu visit to the future and discovered her would-have-been little girl, Melinda, she wondered. That little girl had been only around five years old from what Phoebe knew, but this girl… she looked to be either mid or late teens.

Instant grown-up children were a bit harder to wrap you mind around.

At the same time Phoebe and everyone else were trying to get over their shock at this revelation, Chris closed his eyes with a small grimace. He felt as if his carefully thought out plan had just flown out of the proverbial window. His cousin hadn't been here for… what? Less than twenty minutes and she'd already revealed her identity? He knew the consequences of doing so wouldn't apply to her, but still! She had always been the one to turn to with secrets—nothing like her mother in that aspect. Although he could not find it in him to fault her for this… it wasn't Phoenicia's fault that she was so… volatile.

"… Excuse me?" Phoebe breathed out when she'd finally came out of her stupor, staring at the young woman whose critical gaze never wavered as it settled unblinkingly on her nervous form. How could one girl possibly make her want to inch away and rush forward to hug her at the same time?

"I said _hello_," Phoenicia repeated dutifully, before pausing to look toward Chris. "Is that wrong?"

"No," he smiled at her, a genuine smile that lit up his face in a way Leo and the sisters had never been privileged to witness before. "_Hello'_ is the proper way to greet someone." the dark haired man verified. Phoenicia nodded and tightened her grip on his arm ever so slightly as she decided to view the house she'd grown up in, not in the least bit concerned with the four other people in the room who were still in shock and wanting answers.

Blue and gray eyes narrowed as she took in the _wrongness_ of everything. The child's playpen near the entrance to the kitchen should have been up in the attic, collecting dust. That sofa had been replaced with something newer and much softer when she was eight years old—she remembered this quite clearly because she had helped Chris and Wyatt move it into the basement, which had been renovated into their new room. In fact none of this should be here… Wyatt had turned it into a museum of sorts, one that mortals often came to tour for their own amusement.

Frowning thoughtfully, Phoenicia waved her hand carelessly in a wide, sweeping motions—the room morphed into what it had been the last time she saw it. Everything changed in that instant, most the furniture disappearing in favor for a wider walking space, countless display cases now lining the walls full of random artifacts or recreated costumes. A sign was now posted by the door to the kitchen, proclaiming the gift shop to be just ahead. Chris flinched as a probe glided into the room, and acted upon instinct, using his telekinesis to send it flying into a wall to destroy it, not even considering how much trouble he would be in should it manage to leave a mark on the wall. He absently wondered if his cousin had managed to recreate the holographic projectors as well as he touched her shoulder gently.

Phoenicia glanced up at him through her lashes, a mildly confused look on her face in her pinched eyebrows were anything to go by. Chris smiled at her with a gentle smile, though it was still a bit strained. "It was wrong," she said softly, seeing past the smile in an instant. He could never hide anything from her. "Had to fix it."

A quick glance at the others told Chris that they were appalled by what she had just done to their home, though he couldn't find it in him to be sympathetic right now. "Mia," he sighed, trying to find an argument that might rectify this situation. "This… this isn't how it's supposed to be right now." She eyed him strangely, so he elaborated. "I know this is how you remember it, but we're in the past right now… This isn't right. Remember? So you need to change it back,"

"But it was wrong." she insisted.

"Please?" he begged again. Just seeing it like this was likely to give him nightmares for the next couple of weeks… should he be able to sleep to begin with. "For me?" She studied him again before letting out a longsuffering sigh. She waved her hand again, and it all just vanished while the playpen and the sofa appeared unscathed. He smiled at her in thanks, trying to ignore the unidentifiable sounds of gasping shock everyone else was making while thinking of a way to salvage the situation. It was actually kind of amusing, however—it wasn't everyday that someone could stupefy the Charmed Ones and an Elder into complete and utter silence.

… Too bad silence never lasted long in this house.

"Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on here!?" Piper demanded in a rather loud voice, her hands planted on her hips while her rich, dark brown eyes shifted between the two time travelers every few seconds. She wanted answers. This girl claimed to be part of their family, and frankly, she would have to be blind not to see the resemblance between this girl and Phoebe. She even looked to have a bit of… of Prue in her, which took some of the fire out of Piper gaze. There was also something else that struck a familiarity, though she couldn't quite place it.

"Well, since she's already gone and said it…" Chris muttered with no small amount of annoyance, though his lips belied his ire, twitching upwards to show that he was amused more than anything. He smiled a bit as he introduced his cousin… to her aunts, uncle and mother. "I'd like you all to meet Phoenicia," Saying her name drew her attention, but not for very long before she was back to observing in silence. "Phoenicia Naomi… Halliwell." There was a hesitance as he spoke the last name—he knew his cousin had renounced almost all ties to the Halliwell name long ago. She preferred going by her father's last name, though Chris knew that, as shocking as it was for Phoebe to find out she had a seventeen year old daughter, she would bypass shock and go straight into hysteria should she learn who the father of her child was.

"Born October 1st, 2004, twelve hours, zero minutes, and two seconds—five pounds, seven ounces," Phoenicia took the liberty to add after his introduction. "During the tween hour of the Chimera Festival of Valhalla and the Elemental Fall Rites to be part of one half to another…"

Phoebe was able to understand a bit of what she spoke of—she knew the tween hour was also known as midnight to most people. And she knew where Valhalla was, having been there herself a few months ago, though she hadn't the slightest idea to what the Chimera Festival or the Elemental Fall Rites were, and her sisters were similarly lacking the same knowledge. Leo was able to grasp the significance of what Phoenicia said the best, being an Elder, but even he was a bit confused.

Though before anyone could make a comment or ask yet another question, Phoenicia tilted her head slightly, as if listening to something in the distance and frowned. "Chrissie," she murmured, turning to him as she released her old on his arm. "Demons..."

A frown formed on his face, and the sisters got the impression that he had no more idea why she said that than they did, but soon after a look of comprehension dawned and his back tensed while he began scanning the room in earnest while reaching for an athemé that he always had hidden in the sheath on the inside of his left boot. Phoenicia was content to stand where she was, but soon turned to gaze into an empty corner. Chris followed her eyes and approached the location slowly, his fists clenching and unclenching constantly, turning his knuckles white as he gripped the hilt of the blade. When he reached the spot just in front of the corner, he readied his weapon.

Not two seconds later another demon began to shimmer into existence. It was an easily recognizable demon—a brute demon, which, though they usually had various powers, typically used their impressive strength and sheer size to overpower their enemies. Before the demon had fully materialized, Chris plunged the athemé forward into his chest cavity, killing the bastard before he even had a chance to see his killer. The demon burst into flames following his death, and Chris leaped back from them quickly, his breath faltering when the flames licked at the delicate skin of his hand. He stared at the hand in awe and wonder—the fire hadn't harmed him.

Chris looked desperately to his cousin, hoping to see an answer written on her face but his desperation faded the moment he saw her. _Demons…_ she had said. Not _a demon_, but _demons_… as in plural. He felt like cursing himself as he saw a second brute standing just in front of her. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Piper's hands poised to attack the demon, but she was hesitating because should she blow the demon up, she might accidently harm Phoenicia in the process who was standing far too close to the demon than any of them would have liked. Chris suspected that she had already attempted, and failed, to freeze the demon or else they would not still be in this predicament.

The demon himself wasn't advancing upon his cousin any further, and seemed to be in a daze of sorts. He was a large demon, even by brute standards, and looked particularly enormous standing close to his small, underweight cousin. The demon's flesh was human, making Chris believe that he was only half demon, and it was dark like a rich chocolate. He had very little hair, all of it being facial, coarse and wiry and cropped closely to his skin. His muscles bulged in a way that proved that his strength was of his own doing rather than any power or demonic blood.

Phoenicia's posture showed no tension at being confronted with a colossal demon; to the contrary, she was the picture of serenity. Her eyes were calm and clear, gray and blue staring directly into the demon's with an intensity that it took Chris a moment to identify. It was a look he was well acquainted with—she had used it a number of times all of them, most the time with their knowledge and consent, though on occasion without it, so she could practice on a living subject.

Knowing she had the situation under control, he did a quick sweep over the rest of the room, keeping his senses wide open to search the rest of the house for possible intruders from his stationary location in the conservatory. He felt and saw none, and approached the sisters and Leo slowly, keeping one eye on the unmoving pair as he did so should something go wrong.

It was his calmness of the fact that her daughter was in a staring contest with a demon three times her size, who looked as if he could break her in half with his pinky finger, which made Phoebe angry. "Why aren't you doing anything?" she hissed at him angrily.

Chris shook his head at the slightly hypocritical question—it wasn't as if she had moved since the demons appeared, now was it? Why was it automatically his responsibility to look after Phoenicia? Despite the fact that she was his cousin and his other half and he would never stand idly by why she was harmed, which, of course, they had no knowledge of his and Phoenicia's familial ties, so _why_ was he the only one expected to do something? Not that Phoenicia needed someone to interfere.

"Because she has it under control," he answered easily. Phoebe looked back at her newfound daughter, and seemed to disagree with his assessment but couldn't do much about it having passive powers herself. Even Paige wouldn't be able to do much at the moment, as she couldn't call whole people to her with her powers just yet, and Piper didn't trust herself not to accidently blow her niece up.

Phoenicia's lips twitched into the barest hint of a smile and she reached up and cupped the demon's cheek. "Its okay now, Raze," she said softly, not flinching when his hand rose as well, though with a lot more hesitance as hers had—he placed his own massive hand atop hers, leaning his face into her touch. "Everything will be alright, you'll see."

The demon, Raze, could only nod in response to her words, his eyes closed in contentment. Phoenicia began pulling her hand back, and Raze released her reluctantly and took tiny step away, though lingered close in a protective stance. Phoenicia turned her eyes to the others, all traces of her smile gone. "He is not to be harmed."

Piper scowled at her, uncaring for the moment that this girl was her newfound niece. "I will not have a demon in my house! Now move so I can blow him up,"

Phoenicia's left eye twitched indistinctly, a sign that she was growing upset. "He is not just a demon," she proclaimed, her voice unchanged by her ire. "His name is Rae Zabel, and he is half human on his father's side. His mother was exiled for being sympathetic and unwilling to kill, and was murdered by her former clan when they discovered that she mated a human. Rae became a bounty hunter after his father was killed by a coven of supposedly _good_ witches two years ago, who only targeted him just because he married a demon. Rae has never taken a life, human or otherwise, and he prefers to be called Raze. _He will not be harmed._" she repeated, and this time Chris felt the slight suggestion in her words—none of the sisters would be able to disobey a direct command.

The look on Piper's face clearly meant that she was seething, while the others were simply more uncomfortable than anything else. Chris took it all in a stride—he'd worked with his fare share of demons in the past, a lot of which he would proudly call friends, and he knew that if Phoenicia, sane or otherwise, had decided that this particular demon was not a threat to them, then he would trust her judgment. Besides, she'd used the _Big Voice_. Not even he could disobey the _Big Voice_.

"You should return," Phoenicia said quietly to Raze. "Report a successful mission."

Raze lowered his eyes. "They wouldn't believe me," he said, and everyone blinked at the sound of his voice, a baritone that was both incredibly deep and gravely—a manifestation of his human and demon heritage.

Phoenicia merely shook her head and raised her hand, which moments before had been empty, and presented him with a crystal pendulum. Paige started when she realized it was identical to the one she had been using earlier to scry with… the one she'd left upstairs.

"Give them this." she instructed. "Should they still be unwilling to accept your claim, you are welcome to take sanctuary here with me."

Piper opened her mouth to say that, no, he would not be welcome to take sanctuary here but before she could Phoenicia had already bid Raze farewell and his body became nothing more than a distorted image as he faded away with a shimmer. When he was gone, Piper fumed and rounded on the girl. She opened her mouth several times, trying to ask her why she let the demon go and why he stopped his attack but couldn't get the words out for some unexplainable reason. In the end, she settled for asking something else that had been nagging her since the demons appeared.

"How did you know that they were going to attack?" she asked huffily.

Phoenicia didn't even blink at the question, while Chris hesitated, hoping that he came up with an answer before his cousin said something that might cause an incredible amount of trouble. And even more trouble should he answer truthfully. Unfortunately for him, Phoenicia decided to answer, but thankfully she had the sense to be evasive.

"How does one know anything?" she asked lightly, keeping her unsettling gaze on her would-be aunt. "How is it you know what substances to add to a sauce or a potion to make it work correctly and effectively?" Piper blinked but before she could respond Phoenicia had turned to Paige. "How do you know what to add to your artwork to make it look more realistic… or to see the signs in what you perceive to be your calling? Or what about what you write in your column?" she asked her mother. "How do you know what people need to hear just from reading a scrap of paper that could be interpreted in so many different ways?"

"… Instinct," Phoebe answered, though it was more of a question than an answer.

Phoenicia studied her and then nodded slowly. "Just as you know things, I too know things. Instincts are one of the greatest allies a witch or any being can rely on."

Chris closed his eyes as he quietly released the breath he'd been holding. He couldn't express how relieved he was that she hadn't said more than that, implying that it was all just instinct. Had she chosen to be entirely truthful, certain phrases would have been enough to tip Leo off, which would have resulted in a repeat of history that Chris himself did not want to go through again. At least his cousin had _some_ form of self-preservation: she obviously recalled the first time she had been honest about certain aspects of her abilities.

"She's handy to have around," Paige commented lamely, trying her hand at humor.

Phoenicia obviously did not find any humor in that statement if her narrowed eyes were anything to go by. She hadn't been _handy_ enough when she was younger, had she? Otherwise she wouldn't be classified as clinically insane. Judging by the look on his cousin's face, Chris could sense her direction of thought and decided to redirect the conversation.

"Okay…" He had to clear his throat several times once all the attention was on him. "I know you all have questions—" Piper scoffed, Paige snorted, and Phoebe nodded her head eagerly in response. "Right… I have a few questions myself, so I think we should all take a seat and relax, because I have a feeling this will take a while." The girls simply crossed their arms, all thinking that this was just another diversion tactic of his to get out of answering.

"I agree," Leo supplied helpfully, and Chris's shoulders sagged in relief. He shot the older man a small, tired smile as he walked past him, following the three women into the kitchen with Phoenicia holding onto his arm. They each pulled up a chair or a bar stool and Phoenicia's eyes followed Piper's form as she bustled around in an attempt to brew a batch of tea for everyone.

A few minutes later and they all had a hot, steaming mug full of chamomile in their hands, and an awkward silence fell upon them like a bad omen. The only one who wasn't affected by the silence was Phoenicia who was staring down at her tea with a look of utmost fascination. Everyone else just shifted uncomfortably in their chairs, waiting for someone to speak.

"So…" Phoebe began brightly, smiling unsurely at her daughter. "How old are you?"

Phoenicia gazed back at her blankly for a moment. "Seventeen years, one month, twenty-three days, eleven hours, forty-eight minutes, ten seconds… eleven… twelve… thirteen…" She trailed off in her count, still muttering beneath her breath. She was either unaware or uncaring of the strange looks she garnered. Chris felt his heart constrict almost painfully as her blue-gray eyes glazed over unseeingly. The only thing that proved she was still alive was the soft rise and falls of her chest.

Phoebe didn't know what to think and looked at Chris imploringly. "What's wrong with her?"

For the longest time, Chris couldn't answer her. He could only stare at his other half with pain in his eyes. She was his cousin by blood, but his sister in magic and in his heart and soul. The Phoenicia he shared most of his life with was nothing like this absentminded girl in front of him, as much as it hurt to admit it. She had always been so full of life, wild and untamable. She had a mischievous streak in her that always reared its ugly head when he and Wyatt had least expected it. She shouldn't be like this, this dull and utterly calm person who would remain unaffected even if everyone were to drop dead suddenly and without reason.

Part of him would always resent his family for what they had done to her, locking her away as they had just because they refused to believe and trust in her. She wouldn't have been discovered as a witch so soon, if at all, if she hadn't been trapped in that institution. She wouldn't have been hurt and betrayed so young. But he couldn't tell them what they did to her. As much as he may have resented them for it, he also cared about them to much to try and explain the severity of their actions just yet. It wasn't as if they'd believe him anyway.

"… This is what happens to witches in my time," Chris finally answered, the sadness in his voice clearly genuine and unhidden. He reached a hand over and took one of Phoenicia's smaller hands in his own—had it been anyone else, he was sure she would have flinched out of instinct. But she knew it was him and merely looked directly into his eyes, gazing at the silver ring around his pupil that mirrored the amber one around hers. Chris knew that it wasn't the answer they wanted but he also knew that they weren't sure they wanted more detail. So they left it alone for now, and for that he was grateful.

"Why did she have wings?" Paige asked in another light hearted attempt at breaking the mood.

Chris was relieved that it was such an easy question. "Mia can turn into a kind of… gryphon. Not sure if you know, but there happen to be several different species of gryphon. The kind she can turn into is known as a Sabyl. It looks a bit like an albino panther really, more cat than bird, with long wings and the tip of the tail is all bone and extremely sharp. And before you ask," he added as Paige made to ask another question. "The reason she was bleeding so badly is because she didn't transform completely, and human bodies don't do well with a partial transformation like that."

"And how did you heal her," Piper asked suspiciously. "You said you don't have healing powers."

Chris rolled his eyes. "I don't. And _I_ didn't heal her—I only speed the process up, her body did the rest of the work."

Leo frowned at him searchingly. He already suspected _why_, now he only needed confirmation. "If you didn't heal her," he asked. "Why did her wounds close up so quickly?"

There were only two options Chris could think of—either he could lie by omission and make up some excuse about his cousin having special regenerative powers—which she did, just not in the way they would think—or he could tell the complete truth, which would likely be more productive. The Elders wouldn't _dare_ try and send Phoenicia back to the future as they had already attempted with him so many times. She would be completely safe, revered and protected. And that, more than anything, helped him decide.

"Phoenicia is an Elemental," he told them almost nonchalantly, watching with hidden amusement as Leo nearly fell out of his chair at the statement. Even if Leo had already suspected this, he obviously hadn't been ready to have it confirmed so easily. As far as the Elder knew there hadn't been an Elemental reveal themselves as such for the last thousand years or so. An entire race had vanished without a trace, along with their culture and civilization. And to discover that his future niece was one of these incredibly rare and powerful beings must have been mind blowing.

"I don't get it," Phoebe stated, her nose scrunched up in confusion.

"… Let me put it this way," Chris said in a voice he usually reserved for children or people he thought were incredibly inept. "An Elemental is just as they sound, they are part of their Element. Phoenicia's happens to be Air—in other words, she can absorb air, because she is air. When I blew on her back, all I was doing was helping her own body chemistry heal her because her skin absorbed the air and used it to channel her unique form of magic." All but Leo still seemed uncertain. "… An Elemental can heal itself if they come in contact with their Element. Mia is made of air… naturally, air will heal her." He couldn't put it plainer than that—if they still didn't get it, he was going to throw memory dust in their faces and go with the regeneration power instead. At least that was something their puny brains could understand.

"Why do you call her _Mia_?" Paige asked curiously, and Chris couldn't have been more grateful for the change in subject. And he couldn't have asked for a less invasive question—this was practically common knowledge in the future, and he doubted there would be any consequences in telling. "Isn't her name Phoenicia?"

"Yes," Chris agreed. "Her real name is Phoenicia. She's always been… extremely smart for her age. And as you know, some kids become jealous and spiteful when someone is a bit of a teacher's pet. A girl gave Phoenicia the nickname Phony in grade school, and it stuck for a long time. Phoenicia… well, before she… became like this. She wasn't one to take a hit standing, so she fashioned herself a new nickname by using her middle name, Naomi… I think she also cursed the girl with bad breath for a year. Or was she the one who got the wart?" Chris trailed off, trying to recall which. He shrugged when he couldn't—Phoenicia had been a bit rambunctious back then. And she happened to inherit her father's temper…

"At least Phony is better than Freebe…" Phoebe muttered under her breath. Chris bit the inside of his cheek and decided not to comment, although Piper and Paige had no such reservations and snorted.

"Christopher Robin,"

The young man in question cringed inwardly at the use of his own painfully humiliating nickname and looked dutifully at his cousin. Phoenicia looked at him with a frown. A delicate hand reached out and cupped his cheek. Her eyebrows were pinched together in a frown as she traced the soft pad of her thumb around the spot just below his eye, disliking the discoloration there. Chris didn't even flinch at how close she came to actually poking his eye—he could only smile at the obviously concern written plainly across her face.

"I know," he said with a smile, reach up slowly to capture her wrist. "I need more sleep, right?"

"Yes," Phoenicia agreed without hesitation, her frown intensifying as she ran her eyes up and down his body. Even though he was half hidden behind the countertop, she saw enough to know that she didn't like what she was seeing. He was clearly unhealthy. The old, threadbare flannel button up shirt and the even more scruffy and worn jeans did an effective job of hiding just _how_ unhealthy, but Chris seemed to be unaware that, when their bond had been restored, it had removed nearly all enchantments on their bodies—including their glamours. Phoenicia hadn't bothered to re-cast her own glamours to hide most of her more disfiguring scars or the tattoos. She hadn't needed to, seeing as Chris had done it for her the moment he'd found her… but he was always so neglectful of himself.

Pursing her lips in displeasure at just how thin and tired and stressed her cousin was, she pulled her hand away from his grasp and held it above the table. There was no flash, no blast of magic to indicate that anything had happened. And yet, there, where there hadn't been before, was a plate full of his favorite pasta, positively dripping with sauce and melted cheeses. "You need sustenance… _eat_."

Though he was clearly amused by the order—and promptly moved to obey by first waiting for the fork to appear just as the food had, and then digging in with vigor—he still couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that she had been able to conjure the plate of food to begin with. He was sure her powers had been bound to a great extent, and he knew that her ability to conjure and banish objects had been some of the few that had successfully been bound—so how had she been able to make him a plate of ready-to-eat food? Or what about earlier, in the conservatory when she did the impromptu remodeling? It shouldn't be possible. Just as her ability to absorb or control air shouldn't.

Although… him being able to touch fire and feel only warmth and comfort instead of blinding pain should have been impossible as well. Like Phoenicia, Chris himself was also an Elemental. He hadn't been able to touch his Element since Wyatt's fifteenth birthday party, unfortunately. He had accidentally revealed his control over fire to his family, and they hadn't even bothered doing a bit of research before assuming that he had demonic powers—they'd bound away as much of his magic as possible. The only powers they hadn't been able to bind were his telekinesis and his ability to orb. He had already attempted to unbind his powers over the years, several times in fact… but he had only been able to loosen the hold, not break it completely. So how was it he able to touch fire without getting burned?

While Chris was deep in thought, pondering over this strange and unknown phenomenon, absently twirling his pasta onto his fork, Phoenicia had rested her head onto his shoulder. And the others all watched the two, feeling as if they were outsiders intruding on a privet moment. Chris and Phoenicia seemed to be so… in tuned with each other. As before, Leo had a working theory on _why_, and he was positive he knew the answer.

Chris's earlier collapse had been the restoration of a bond, just as he'd originally suspected. And the only explanation he had was that Phoenicia was the one he was bonded with—the timing was just too much of a coincidence for her not to be. Leo could only assume that due to the fact that they had been in completely different times that their bond had, if not been disconnected, then it had been severely strained and damaged. It would explain why Chris had been in so much pain when their bond was restored. Soul bonds were not meant to be broken and most bonded people couldn't leave their other half in another city without causing harm, let alone a different time.

Of course, if either Chris or Phoenicia knew what type of bond the Elder believed them to have they would have died choking on their laughter. While their bond was strong and their souls were irrevocably tied together in ways that very few people understood… they were not soulmates in _that_ sense of the word. Their bond was just as deep, but in ways it was stronger. They were twins born of magic, brother and sister… astral twins. And instead of giving and receiving a small piece of each other's soul, they were quite literally one soul divided into two separate entities. Chris only knew of a few other records of astral twins sharing the type of bond they did.

"Skinny boy," Phoenicia muttered under her breath, her mismatched and eerie eyes watching over him intently to make sure that he consumed every single spec of food on his plate. It wouldn't make him sick to eat such a large portion, seeing as she had also made sure to conjure a nutrient potion into the sauce. While he continued to eat, she absently played with the diamond and quartz hanging from the chain around her neck—it helped to grounded her, helped her to concentrate. She focused on it completely, trying to gather her thoughts enough to convey something, _anything,_ to Chris. He had stopped eating. She blinked as she realized this, feeling immensely annoyed and a bit dismayed that she had not realized he had finished his meal, so lost in her own mind. She conjured up a piece of his favorite dessert—raspberry cheesecake with chocolate sauce. "Eat."

Chris only rolled his eyes as he grasped the fork obediently.

"You were gone," she said quietly in her moment of coherency and the fork paused on its course toward his mouth. She narrowed her eyes momentarily and he got the hint to continue eating. She waited until he was half done with his dessert to finish speaking. "I had been sleeping at the time, and when I woke it was as if you did not exist. Not long after, Wyatt and his army were in a scrimmage with the mortals. It was a bloody battle and very few on either side survived. Wyatt was hurt and no one could get to him. I heard him calling, so I went… the wound on his chest was grave and I sent him to New Avalon to get healed. I was recaptured by the mortals before I could leave."

Phoenicia's arms rose silently, and she looked down at the circlets surrounding both appendages. A familiar rage settled in the pit of Chris's stomach and he gently took her arms and inspected them. He himself had been trapped by the seals before. It was one of the worst feelings any witch can endure, the ultimate betrayal of your magic being trapped within your own body, refusing to respond to your pleas. It was different than your powers just being bound, because even then you could still do magic, just not in the same way. This however was suffocating and painful. Chris wasn't sure if the sealing runes had lost their magic or had been broken by traveling to the past but he wanted them off of her. He placed one hand over the platinum, and used his telekinesis to pull the two halves in opposite directions. He felt resistance, and narrowed his eyes as he used all his strength to tear the metal pieces apart.

The sound it made in protest grated on his sensitive ears, and even the sisters and Leo shifted uncomfortably as the two halves ripped apart unnaturally. They fell with a rather loud _clank_ onto the linoleum floor and Chris proceeded to do the same to the other two on her left wrist and her neck. When they were all finally in a pile on the floor, he had to take several deep breaths from the strain it took. No, the enchantments placed on them had not, in fact, been broken. Otherwise it wouldn't have been so difficult to get them off of her. He still was unsure how she had been able to use her conjuring power when she had been sealed in such a way. He was also angry to find that the delicate skin beneath where the seals had laid were scarred terribly—the only way to get the seals on in a permanent manner like that was to place them while they were still pliable, piecing the two together around the appendages and letting them melt and fuse together. It was an incredibly painful process to get sealed, not only for the loss of magic, but for the shackles themselves, especially if the technicians placing them on managed to hold the glowing hot metal against the skin even for the briefest of moments.

To think that his twin had not only had to go through such a painful process once was bad enough, but to go through it twice? It made Chris's blood boil, and not only metaphorically. Heat surged through his veins and he swallowed nervously, hoping that, in his anger, he didn't accidently set the house on fire. He looked back up when he was sure he had wasn't about to explode, intent on asking his cousin _how_ exactly he had his Element back under his control, only to feel that fire in him go out completely when he realized that what lucidity she'd had in those few short moments had already faded away and now she was staring blankly at him again, her beautiful eyes glazed over absently.

_Forget the mission_, Chris thought as heartbreak set in. Screw the world and the stupid mortals in it—what had the world or mortal's ever done for him? Break his family apart and burn them at the stake is what. The mortals were responsible for the state of her mind. Wyatt had been right all along, mortals were nothing but parasites. Chris would feel no guilt what-so-ever in letting the Dark Prince and his Empire rule the world as long as it meant Phoenicia would be alright. And it wasn't as if Wyatt would be lost to him. Just because he didn't agree with some of his brother's methods didn't mean he hated him, or even that Wyatt was in the wrong.

Besides, only half of Wyatt was the Dark Prince—the other half was a happy-go-lucky idiot who was kept safely hidden in a secret room in the Stronghold of New Avalon where no one would ever find him. No one really knew how it happened, except for Phoenicia and possibly Wyatt himself, but they weren't exactly forthcoming about any details. It was a magical mystery to Chris but somehow Wyatt's split personalities had wound up in two completely different bodies. One of them had gained his devious mind and his ruthlessness while the other his undying optimism and his knack for bad jokes in serious situations.

Unfortunately enough for Chris, they both appeared to have equal quantities of his over protectiveness. Only a select few knew about his brother's condition, especially since the running theory was that both of them shared a kind of sympathetic resonance, and that whatever happened to one version of the man happened to the other. This theory had been confirmed when the cutthroat and ruthless half had managed to get stabbed during an assassination attempt—the other half had begun bleeding through a bad case of stigmatism from the other's wounds.

And really, Chris would much rather have his brother rule the world instead of the corrupt and prejudiced mortals—at least his brother didn't have a hidden agenda as they did. Wyatt happened to be quite straight forward about taking over the world while the mortals were like shifty little rats, always trying to manipulate everything to their liking. Although… as much as Chris would just love to hand the world over to his brother, he couldn't stand the thought of Wyatt's soul being fractured. He had come here to save his brother from that very fate. Wyatt deserved to be whole, not torn apart as he was.

Chris let out an inaudible sigh as his anger cooled. No, he would not abandon his mission. He would help his brother and find whatever had splintered his mind and his soul so badly. Phoenicia had been the one to tell him, in her own way, that he would find the answers to saving Wyatt's soul here in the past. He couldn't give up so easily just because it physically hurt him to see his other half, his twin, in such a state. He could save them both. He _would_ save them both. Because he needed them both so much, and he couldn't stand to see them hurt like this.

The young man was drawn out of his thoughts by a soft bell-like sound and looked up just in time to see the toddler version of his brother appear into his twin's awaiting arms with a flourish of blue and white lights. He, as well as everyone else, blinked in surprise as the girl adjusted her hold on the boy and stared intently at his face. Wyatt stared back just as intently, a wide toothless smile etched happily across his slightly rounded face. It was a sight he recalled once again, not unlike what she had done earlier with the demon she'd place under her protection. His cousin's gift of telepathy was unrivaled, even by him. She spoke to the child within the confines of their minds, and even though Wyatt was so young, he understood a majority of what she said to him.

Whatever the conversation was between them, Chris and the others would never know. But as Wyatt's smile grew and a smaller, more subdued one appeared on his twin's face as they both turned their heads to gaze directly at him, Chris had the feeling that he probably didn't _want_ to know what they were talking about.

"Mia play?" the toddler asked, his voice slurring a bit around the simple words as he stared up at the girl happily. The reaction of the others was almost comical—Wyatt had just begun to pick out simple words that he had heard repeated thousands of times by his aunts and parents. He had said his first word not but a week ago. And yet, he knew Phoenicia's nickname even though he had never heard it. Chris himself was a bit shocked that Wyatt had picked up on it so easily but he still was certain he didn't want to know what had been said between his twin and his brother.

Unaware of the bafflement they'd created, Phoenicia stood from the stool she'd been sitting in with Wyatt resting contently in her arms as she walked back into the conservatory and to the corner where his playpen was. She sat him down in front of his building blocks and promptly joined him on the floor with her legs crossed like a pretzel. They paid everyone no mind as they began to play with the blocks, Phoenicia helping her cousin build what Chris recognized as a replica of New Avalon, conjuring more blocks when the small set began to run out.

Chris shook his head at the sight… things were certainly going to be different from now on.

**End  
Chapter**

And that's that. For those of you who would like a more accurate portrait of how I envisioned Raze, look up the actor Kevin Grevioux. He 'coincidentally' played a character named Raze in the _Underworld_ series, and he did in fact play a brute demon in an episode of Charmed during season six… so he's not _really_ an OC if you think about it that way, but I'm definitely giving him a slightly bigger role than he had in the show because he was played by such a great actor that I just had to make his character more than just some random bounty hunter. I love his work in _Underworld_, and I'm sure my description didn't do him justice but I couldn't resist adding him. He will be showing up in later chapters, and rest assured that he is acting of his own free will—Phoenicia merely spoke to him in his mind, she didn't meddle with it.

Also, I decided to address the reason for Phoenicia's nickname early on instead of in a flashback like I had planned in the original just to avoid the confusion that arose last time—it also happens to be a true story, but I downplayed it a bit for my cousin's sake. Her name is Phoenicia, which is where I got the name from, though Naomi isn't her middle name. She was given the nickname Phony for the same reasons as Mia, and decided that she _really _didn't like it. So she gave herself a new nickname using her middle name. It's always been a bit of an inside joke between family even if we weren't particularly close growing up, but I've always thought that the story behind her nickname was kind of funny so I decided to use it since she was the name sake for my character.

Until next Sunday,

Lynx


	5. The Remedy

**Finding Yourself  
The Remedy**

**Monday, November 24****th****, 2003  
**When Chris woke the next morning it had taken him several moments of blinking up at the ceiling to realize where he was exactly—in a nice, soft and comfortable bed. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept in an actual bed. He'd had his own bed in New Avalon, though even that one had rarely been used because he was always too busy to find time to sleep. In fact, the last bed he _could_ remember getting a good nights rest in had been a hospital bed… and he'd been sedated at the time.

The only reason he awoke in a bed today was his cousin's doing. Phoebe, thinking she could gain favor with Phoenicia since the girl seemed indifferent to her and the others, had oh-so kindly offered her large king sized bed to her future progeny while she roughed it out on the couch downstairs. What she hadn't counted on was Phoenicia latching onto _Chris_ as her pillow. Phoebe had even tried to coax the girl to let him go but Phoenicia wouldn't have any of it—her resolve was clear enough. If Chris was not allowed to stay the night too, than she would just go with him wherever he went. To say that Phoebe had been upset would be an understatement… though she had nothing on the slight tantrum Piper had when she found out that he would be sleeping in her house all night.

Chris stumbled his way into the bathroom, wincing at his reflection in the mirror. He tried to smooth his hair down as much a possible but it remained jutted up at odd angles despite the effort. Sighing, he attempted to clean up in the sink—he was sure Piper would take offense if he even tried to take a shower. Steam rose around him, fogging up the mirror, as he turned the water on the hottest possible setting. He breathed in the muggy air, a strange feeling of deep calmness pooling in him. The room was like a sauna as he let the water run, and he enjoyed it for a moment before washing his face and his hair with the scalding hot liquid.

_So it hadn't been my imagination_, he mused as he stole a swig of mouthwash since he didn't have anything to clean his teeth with. He had been sure he had imagined touching his element and remaining unharmed by it. And yet even now he was not hurt by the heat, only comforted. He absently wondered what other powers of his had returned, yet he wasn't brave enough to test them in the vicinity of Piper or Leo—he didn't trust the Elder not to sense him using such strong magic and report that he'd been hiding more from them. As for Piper… well, he had no desire to get blown up. And Chris wouldn't consider it _lying_, per se—just omitting certain privet facts about himself that he thought they didn't need to know.

When he was done cleaning himself, he swiped a hand down the mirror and grimaced. He looked marginally better than when he first woke up but what he wouldn't give for a nice hot shower… with shampoo… and conditioner… and soap… he supposed he could slip away and take one at the collage dorms, provided he could manage to get past campus security again. He sighed and shook his head tiredly before running a hand through his disheveled wet hair in one last attempt to smooth it. When he felt composed and presentable enough, he made his way down to the kitchen where everyone seemed to congregate during the early morning hours.

Pausing just at the threshold of the doorway, he decided to observe what kind of mood they were in before he dared to enter. His eyebrow rose involuntarily when he noticed that Piper had created a feast of eggs, bacon, hash browns and her famous homemade waffles. Usually she would only make enough for her and her sisters, and provide Wyatt with something soft and mushy to eat, but this would feed all of them at least twice. His other eyebrow moved to join the other when he then noticed that Phoebe was sitting directly across from his cousin, a loaded fork in her hand as she tired to feed Phoenicia… like a baby. She was even making little airplane noises as she moved the fork closer to the girl's lips.

Phoenicia didn't even look at her would-be mother—she ignored the aggravating woman and her poor attempt to force feed her, seemingly content to make a cabin out of her waffles. Chris had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at the sight—Paige and Piper didn't seem to have any reservations about it though, as they kept snorting and giggling to themselves about their sister's antics.

He got the feeling that his cousin had been waiting for his arrival when he finally decided to enter the kitchen. The surprisingly empty stool sitting innocently beside Phoenicia suddenly pulled itself out for him when he approached the bar. His suspicions were confirmed because when he made to sit in it, Paige and Phoebe both winced in anticipation before looking confused when he settled himself in the stool more comfortably. With Leo standing so close, as he'd been feeding Wyatt, Chris didn't feel like tempting fate and trying to read Paige and Phoebe's minds to see _what_ exactly his cousin had cursed this chair with so that it would remain empty for his use.

A plate appeared just in front of him along with a set of eating utensils. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Piper purse her lips in obvious irritation and smirked inwardly as he served himself some of the steaming food. The moment the waffle was in his mouth, Chris's heart stilled along with his jaw and he couldn't bring himself to eat more after he swallowed. He heard Piper huff, muttering something that sounded distinctly like 'What, my cooking's not good enough for him?' under her breath.

On the contrary—the food was delicious, sweet and soft like biting into a cloud, and he had been starving when he'd come down. But… it tasted so much like his mother's famous homemade waffles. And of course it made perfect sense because somewhere beneath the apathetic and sarcastic front she always kept when around him she _was_ his mother, and he knew it was stupid of him to be feeling like this now but he couldn't help it. Appetite vanishing as he tired to get a reign on his emotions, Chris pushed the plate away slightly, and ignored the way Phoenicia's eyes dug into the side of his neck for it.

Instead he just sat in silence while everyone else around him finished their breakfast, and Phoebe eventually had to give up trying to feed her future daughter like an infant and went about eating her own food before it got cold. He decided to distract himself by picking up where he'd left off last night before sleep—or rather Phoenicia's timely sleeping _spell, _though for the life of him he couldn't figure out how she'd managed it—had taken a hold of him. He was trying to cultivate a plan that would save both his older brother and his cousin, and so far he was still coming up wanting on both accounts.

The list of possible reasons Chris could come up with to explain what exactly could have caused his brother's multiple personality disorder was still alarmingly long. Fact was, not many beings had the necessary skill or power it took to fracture someone's soul like that. He'd seen people naturally come about something similar to that, mostly mortals who had been through trauma… but Phoenicia and Luke had both agreed that whatever caused Wyatt's was unnatural and had to have happened when he was still too young to remember it. And of course, when Phoenicia had an opinion about something, it was best to listen to it. So far, however, most of his leads seemed to have led him further away from whatever really caused it. And Phoenicia… her condition was as much physical as it was mental.

Chris himself had read the medical files they stolen from the lab where she'd been kept. Before they had even found out _what_ she was, they had been experimenting with her mind. And if the familiar loopy signature was anything to go by, a certain Mrs. Phoebe Halliwell had consented to those experiments. They had drilled holes in her head, sawed it open completely, cut and sliced where they had no business looking let alone touching. As if that hadn't been bad enough, they just _had_ to discover she was magical and decide to prod and poke and slice and destroy her further. Phoenicia had always had a possibility of loosing her mind _before_ any of that had happened just by being _what_ she was—and their particular form of torture had made that possibility a reality.

It was that thought that made Chris's breath catch. _Of course!_ he crowed inwardly, calming himself down when he saw his twin's eye twitch at his mental shout. Of course—why hadn't he taken this into consideration before? He knew that it wouldn't work the same. In fact, it might not work at all but there was always the possibility that he could perfect it—he had always excelled in that department. And to perfect it, he would have to attune it to her, so that it reacted perfectly with her body, working with it to heal her. He would have to steal the book that listed the ingredients though. And, he conceded, he'd have to steal the ingredients themselves also.

Chris turned in his stool, his mouth open and ready to convey his brilliant plan to his twin—his mouth snapped shut with an audible _snap_ when he saw everything he needed lying right in front of him. Both relieved and disappointed—he would have loved to break in and steal the book right beneath the Elders' upturned noses—he watched with gratefulness swelling in his chest as she extended her arm without a word. He reached over and selected the long strip of rubber among the pile and set about tying it tightly, but not tight enough to cause harm, around her bicep. He then grabbed the needle and began fingering the vein he wanted, ignoring the queries made by the others.

He then took a moment to visibly brace himself, taking several calming breaths. It was strange that _he_ was so nervous about this when it should have been _her_ that was… unless… unless… _Oh…_ Chris blinked in wonderment. Shaking his head and deciding to find the answer to _that_ particular question later, he eyed his cousin to make sure she wasn't about to bolt at the reminder of what her life had been about since she was the tender age of twelve.

"You okay?" he asked her quietly, rubbing the calloused pad of his thumb over the delicate skin.

"… Yes."

"What's going on?" Phoebe demanded, watching as he tapped the girl's vein a few time. Of course she knew _what_ he was doing, just not why he was doing it. "Chris?" she tried again in a softer voice when he didn't respond. In fact Chris looked as if he would be sick to his stomach. He swallowed a few times but didn't answer at first.

"Drawing blood," he answered finally, his voice crisp and soft. The needle's sharp point slid through the thin layer of pale skin, diving into the clearly visible vein. Phoenicia herself made no reaction, her body and mind so used to being poked by needles that she hardly noticed it—her scars were a testament to that. Chris watched her reaction closely though, rubbing his free hand up and down her arm soothingly before he began methodically went about drawing her blood into the small vial, the chamber filling up with a deep crimson liquid. Once it was full, he took the piece of gauze she offered him atop the wound and pulled the needle out quickly and efficiently.

Chris swiftly catered to her wound, placing the vial of blood and the equipment aside by his abandoned plate of food. The small dot where the needle had pierced her skin healed much quicker than the more grave injuries from last night and he was grateful to see that she wasn't in any pain. Though, as he observed her, he couldn't help but notice the slight tremble and quickly wrapped his arms around her in a tight embrace. "It's okay," he whispered into her short, choppy hair gently. "You did great. Such a brave little Piglet,"

"… Piglet?" she repeated, confusion prominent.

Of course she would remember _his_ horribly embarrassing nickname and not her own, he lamented inwardly. "If I'm Christopher Robin, then you must be Piglet because you're so small and scared of the dark," he teased her quietly. His cousin tilted her head, clearly trying to process his words. They were familiar and foreign all at the same time. "It's all right, Mia," he told her with a small smile. "If this," He gestured to the pile of objects on the table. "Works the way I'm hoping it will, you'll remember everything."

Though she was still obviously confused, Phoenicia nodded her head to show that she understood to a certain extent. Just as he was preparing to orb away, burdened by everything she'd conjured for his plan to succeed, she placed a delicate hand over his shoulder, her eyes blank and staring right through him. "_See the Hart, follow the Heart_." she said solemnly. Then she blinked and returned to playing with her food.

Chris swallowed briefly, etching the words to his memory. Most of the time, it may seem as if what came out of her mouth was just nonsense, but Chris knew better. Even before she had been incarcerated, she'd had an odd way of speaking, in a jumbled puzzle of words. Every word that she spoke could have double edged meanings. He had once likened them to a sonnet—what she said made perfect sense, as long as you were smart enough to go through every possible meaning of what she could be saying. For instance, he knew that when she said _Heart_, she wasn't talking about the organ, or love or anything like that. She meant his instincts. First though he had to see the _Hart_, and Chris was almost positive that she didn't mean the animal.

Chris was just about to orb away once more when another hand fell on his shoulder, this time from behind. With an inward groan, he turned to the offender, a sharp statement already on his tongue. He faltered a bit when he saw it was Piper, his earlier feelings rising back to the surface when he took in her matronly stance with her hands planted firmly on either side of her hips.

"Not so fast mister," she said. "Why do you need her blood?"

Resisting the strong urge to set her long dark hair on fire, Chris pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. He heard a snicker in the back of his mind that didn't belong to him and stilled briefly, his suspicions confirmed about his telepathy being back as well as his pyrokinesis, and shot his cousin a look. She smirked back, and he narrowed his eyes at her. _Cheeky little brat_, he thought, clenching his teeth when her smirk only grew at his ire.

"I needed a sample of her blood for two reasons," Chris not-so-kindly informed them, the tone of his voice condescending and brash. "As soon as I leave, I'm going to go work on a rather tricky potion. For the potion to work, it needs to have a base liquid, and though water is neutral and would have probably worked, using her blood will only serve to further the attunement of everything to her own personal body chemistry because this potion isn't really meant to cure schizophrenia or dementia, and second, I don't want any of the stimuli to cause a bad reaction with her, thereby attuning it with her blood will ensure that nothing effects her negatively. So, if you don't mind, I have to go try to redevelop an already existing potion that only a _hand full_ of potion experts know how to make, so that it will give her some semblance of her life back, and I'm hoping to get it done as soon as possible because, I don't know about you, but whenever she starts looking _through_ me and not _at_ me, it breaks my heart into thousands of little pieces. I'll see you all later." And with that, he kissed his cousin on the cheek before breaking apart into blue and white lights, vanishing with a soft bell sound.

Paige recovered first. "I think I liked it better when he only said _future consequences_,"

Hours later, while everyone was out going through the daily motions, Chris was still working on his initial tests to ensure that he could provide his cousin with this potion. It was a rather tricky one to begin with, and having to change the properties to suit his twin's needs was proving to be a challenge… though not impossible. He had always been incredibly gifted with potions—something he'd been unbelievably grateful for after his powers were bound, because even though they had been locked away inside of him, he could recreate nearly all his gifts through a few ingredients.

Chris used a cloth to remove some of the dampness from a leaf he'd just washed before setting it down atop the brown surface of the potion. He held his breath as he observed the reaction—the edges of the leaf started to disintegrate, burning the green away until it was all ashes. Sighing in disappointment, he moved away from the lab he'd created and slumped into a couch he'd formed out of rock.

Currently he was in a cave that, technically, shouldn't exist until he discovers it when he is eight. And though he knew it would screw with the timeline, Chris hadn't been able to resist the chance to test if all of his powers had returned or not now that Leo wasn't in the near vicinity. He had literally melted the rocks around him and molded them into the grotto he'd made when he was young, only this time catering to what an adult would want instead of a child. He had even attempted to recreate the wards, though they were not very strong unfortunately because he didn't have the time. He had been able to conceal it from people who wished him harm, but he hadn't been strong enough to make them more than a security system. When he regained his strength, he would make sure that should any harmful creature try to enter, they would become poached trespasser alamode.

Forming the cave had been more… difficult than he remembered, and it had taken him several hours to make the cave as large as he wanted it. It had been a nice way to pass time while he waiting for the potion to settle for the next phase. Once he had everything to his liking, he had decided to test himself for his other abilities, starting first with an ability that didn't actually belong to him—conjuring. He had tapped into his twin's power by following the threads attached to his soul and siphoning from her. It was something they had done in the past, part of the whole astral twin package he supposed. And it had come in handy when creating his grotto. He had conjured himself tables and chairs, a bed in one of the further adjacent caves just in case he was bodily removed from the manor once more, and a sink and a shower with water provided from an aquifer—he had then spent thirty minutes testing to see if the shower worked.

From what he could gather, his abilities were still somewhat… weak. As much as he would love to deny it, he was still nearly powerless. He couldn't really understand _why_ his powers, though responding to him flawlessly, drained him so much. He had never experienced it before and it was somewhat daunting. His telepathy and empathy, once he actually attempted to use them, had been so unfamiliar and sudden after disuse for so long that he now had a splitting headache from the barrage of voices and emotions, and he had only tried to get a vibe from the people in the park. He decided to be more careful when attempting either of those again.

When he attempted to travel by flame, his body had only been turned to ashes instead of flames and he had only been able to appear within five feet of his starting point. He had been able to form lightning before his powers had been bound, it had been the last power he received, and the one he had the least practice with, so he wasn't too disappointed when all he got from his attempt was static electricity. And his ability to cloak his body… well… he still had many invisibility potions ready to use, so it wasn't a horrible discovery to find that his cloaking was nearly nonexistent. He had, however, tested other abilities he shared with Phoenicia, and was pleased that he was still able to use her astral projection along with her conjuring and banishing.

And after seeing what had happened to his twin when she attempted to transform into her gryphon form, he was wary about what should happen to him should he try to become his animal. He decided to hold off on it until he was sure he was capable of transforming. Which he hoped would be when he managed to get complete control of his elemental abilities.

With a downtrodden sigh, Chris stood from the couch. He emptied out the failed version of the potion he'd been working on and mentally went through everything he needed for the original potion, making sure he wouldn't have to get more of the ingredients. His cousin hadn't provided him with one particular ingredient, which in itself was curious because why wouldn't she include sage? She had studied this potion with him even if she hadn't been able to brew it herself, and if she had remembered all of the others, why not sage? He wasn't too worried about it right now though, the sage wouldn't be needed until the end anyway since he decided to switch it and the rosemary around to further suit his cousin's needs. Though, in all honesty, he didn't feel secure enough with his powers to conjure the ingredient right. He would have to secure it by other means.

When he was done with inventory, he stepped back up to the chemistry set—much more reliable and safer than a cauldron or a big pot—and began again. He only had a small amount of Phoenicia's blood left to work with and he prayed to Ifrit that he would not need to get more from her. He didn't like how she had shaken when he got this last batch, and he wasn't sure if he could steel himself to do it again. When the blood was at the right temperature, he began adding the ingredients once more, following the original recipe and starting with comfrey, hoping that this one would not fail as the other two batches had.

All he needed was for it to be stable up until one point before he could manage to start with his revisions. The trouble was that if even one ounce was off, the entire potion would be ruined. There was a reason why so very few had ever managed to create this potion, let alone recreate. After he added the precise measurement of finely cut coriander, he grabbed the chamomile leaf, which he had already washed and dried, and readied it. This time when he set it atop the brown glassy liquid, it stayed afloat, not burning or disintegrating, and then sunk to the bottom of the potion smoothly.

"Finally," he breathed out, shaking his head. The potion remained a brown color, and he didn't expect it to change until he started adding his revisions, and he still had to add the chervil, cress, the nightshade, burned henbane seeds, lilies, and nutmeg before he could start with his own recreation of the final steps of the potion. Once he was done adding the rest, he turned the flame down so that the potion would simmer and incorporate everything until he came back tomorrow. He made sure to cover everything so that no unwanted dust or anything would end up ruing this batch as well.

Chris stepped back away from the potion and breathed deeply—the cave still smelt earthy and dirty but at least it wasn't all potion fumes. Impatient yet knowing that he had a while to wait before he could finish, Chris gathered his nerves and orbed back to the manor, rematerializing in the parlor. He tilted his head, sensing for the other occupants in the house. The sisters weren't home yet, and judging by the old grandfather clock, they still had at least another two hours until Phoebe got home. Piper was probably at the club and seeing as she was the owner and could leave anytime she wanted, who knew when she'd return. And as for Paige, Chris wasn't sure what her temporary job was this week, so he hadn't the faintest clue when she'd be back.

The only other people who were in the house were Phoenicia, Wyatt and Leo. From what he could sense, Phoenicia and Wyatt were playing together in the attic, with Leo somewhere close to them. The young man decided against going up there for now. Seeing Leo acting as if he were paternal just wasn't high on his list anymore, and as long as Phoenicia was with Wyatt he knew his brother would be safe. So instead, he headed for the kitchen, intent on making himself something to eat before Piper got home and made sure he stayed out of her kitchen.

Chris kept his lunch simple, only making a ham and cheese sandwich, because he wasn't entirely sure his stomach could handle more than that. As he ate, his eyes wondered over to the magnetic dry erase calendar adorning the refrigerator. His eyes widened slightly when he realized it was only a few days away until Thanksgiving, if all the crossed out dates were anything to go by. It shouldn't surprise him too much though, considering that he'd gone right through his own birthday without realizing it. Still, Piper hadn't really given any indication that she was preparing for a holiday feast as she normally did. She always made cookies and pumpkin bread for this particular holiday at least a week in advance.

Swallowing the last bite of his sandwich, Chris placed his plate in the sink and began washing it off, internally debating with himself. Call it a sense of nostalgia but he was actually debating whether or not to just make the cookies himself. He couldn't kid himself and say that his mother was the best of mothers, but before she died there had been one thing that was just for the two of them—cooking. She always let him help, and she added her own input on how to make everything absolutely wonderful. Biting his lip, Chris gave in and began pulling out everything he needed from the shelves and the refrigerator.

After a moment of hesitation, he decided upon his personal favorite kind of cookies—peanut butter. Perhaps they were his favorite because the first time his mother let him help out in the kitchen was to make them. From then on it became the one thing they actually did together, where he felt like he belonged. Something he could be praised for that his brother couldn't. It wasn't as if Wyatt had ever rubbed it in his face that he was the obvious favorite and got more recognition—on the contrary, Wyatt made it a point to try and downplay it, which only made everyone else think he was trying to be modest or noble—although that didn't stop everyone _else_ from doing it.

When he was younger he hadn't understood _why_. Why his brother could prank their aunt by turning her hair green on April Fool's day did he get a pat on the back and a laugh and smile, when Chris was punished for making sure the mouthwash would stain their tongue and teeth blue for a few hours. Or why when he did something great, it was as if it never happened, while when Wyatt did he got praised for it. It wasn't until he was eight years old, when he overheard part of a conversation between his parents that it had begun to truly sink in.

They favored his brother, the powerful Twice Blessed one… over him. It wasn't only his parents, but his aunts and uncles as well. He was always just an afterthought. They had always believed him to be too young or too weak to be of any use, that more often than naught they forgot about him completely. Chris happened to be just as powerful as his brother, thank you very much. Maybe even more so, considering their parentage—though their father was Leo on both accounts, the man had only been a lowly whitelighter when his brother had been conceived… with Chris, he had not only been an Elder but the one and only High Elder even if he hadn't known that particular detail until later in life. If that hadn't been enough to at least bring him up to par with his brother than nothing ever would. His family hadn't even known that he'd had powers until he had accidently revealed them during one of Wyatt's elaborate birthday parties. And even then, they had attempted to bind them, because apparently someone who could conjure fire had to be evil.

Of course that was just their narrow mindedness, something that Chris couldn't blame them for really. Their entire life had been based on the assumption that there was only good and evil, just like in fairy tales. Who was there to teach them differently, to guide them? Grams had done her best but even she was biased against anything she considered to be evil or unnatural. And it wasn't her fault either. He couldn't blame any of them really, though that didn't stop his brother from blaming them for him. Chris could only hope that things were different this time around, although… he might not be there to enjoy it considering the unanticipated split between his parents.

Chris had never been more grateful that his brother was stuck in the future running the Stronghold and his Empire, otherwise Chris was positive that the man would pitch an absolute fit when he learned that his precious baby brother, whom he deemed had to be protected at all costs, had split their parents up _before_ his conception. Chris nearly winced at the mere thought of it. He wasn't keen on facing either version of his brother should that little fact become known… the sweet and caring Wyatt was protective to the point where it felt suffocating to be in the same room with him at times… especially if Wyatt knew there was an _actual threat_ to Chris.

The other more… vicious version of his brother was worse. _Much_ worse, in fact. He wasn't just protective, he was obsessively overprotective. And extremely possessive. Chris could remember when he first escaped from the Facility. He and the handful of others he'd escaped with had been running for days and had nearly made it back to San Francisco, and just outside of the unofficial boarder of the Empire. All they had to do was cross the Golden Gate Bridge and they would be in the capable hands of fellow witches and demons. But it turned out to be an ambush and they had been pinned against a barricade and the rails of the bridge by mortals.

None wanted to return and so, they had all attempted to jump off of the bridge and into the icy and rocky waters below. Death was a more pleasant alternative to what faced them should they return. Thankfully before he could jump… Wyatt had sensed him and had joined the fray with half of his demonic army. Unfortunately enough for the mortals, seeing his baby brother willing to end his own life had been a bit overwhelming for Wyatt…

"Hey," a soft voice pulled him out of his memories and Chris tensed completely at the intrusion, whipping around in an instant, body tout in a defensive stance. The young man faltered slightly as he observed his fath—_Leo's_ startled look. Leo eyed the dripping spoon in his hand warily. "Going to beat me or the batter with that?" the Elder asked jokingly.

Chris lowered the spoon back to the bowl sheepishly, and turned back to the rest of the ingredients. He finished up with the mixture and prepared a baking sheet with small droplets of the batter. He tensed slightly as Leo moved to his side for a better look but was able to force himself to relax. He was getting better at being in Leo's presence since the man had stood up for him this past week and wasn't following him around anymore.

"I didn't know you could cook,"

Chris glanced over at the other man briefly. "… My mother taught me."

Leo blinked slightly as the soft, almost fragile admission reached his ears. He had to bite back the sarcastic remark about the neurotic whitelighter from the future actually giving him a straight answer that was already at the tip of his tongue because he was sure it would make the boy clam up again. And alienating him now wasn't something Leo wanted to do. He wanted Chris to trust him. Sometime over the last twelve hours he had promised himself that he wasn't going to be the man who he'd become over these past few months, the suspicious warrior who would rather attack first and ask questions later. He was a pacifist by nature, and he wasn't sure he liked the man he was becoming. Besides, he knew that trust worked both ways. If he wanted Chris to trust him, he would have to trust Chris as well.

"Where are Wyatt and Phoenicia?" Chris asked once he had the baking sheet in the oven and the timer set.

"Wyatt fell asleep when Phoenicia decided to tell him a… very strange story," Leo told him, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He noted the way Chris tensed slightly and continued. "I kind of got the gist of the story and I'm pretty sure she portrayed herself as one of the characters but… it was weird. It was all about how the fair Lady Mia had taught someone she called Sir Jinxalot a very valuable lesson about how he shouldn't cast spells…"

All wariness faded from Chris and the boy snorted in a very undignified way, laughing into his hand as his green eyes glinted with mirth. "Figures," he said shaking his head. "It's kind of an inside joke."

"Care to elaborate?"

As it really wouldn't affect the future, as much as he actually kind of wished it would, Chris decided to explain it just a bit. "She was talking about a friend of ours who has never really cast a proper spell in his entire life, because they always backfire somehow. It earned him the name Sir Jinxalot. If you haven't noticed, Phoenicia has nicknames for everyone."

Leo nodded. He _had_ noticed, considering that when she saw him in his robes, a mark of respect from pretty much everyone in the magical community, she had deigned him a _cross-dressing know it all._ Though he had to laugh at the one she gave to his wife—Pitbill Piper was an adept analogy, especially lately with everything that has been going on. Although, that particular nickname, Pitbull Piper, it sounded vaguely familiar. He was sure that someone had called Piper that before, but he couldn't quite remember who… perhaps it had been Chris?

Leo quickly forgot all about his train of thought when the most glorious smell wafted up to him as Chris pulled the first batch of finished cookies from the oven. "Peanut butter?" he asked with a deep inhalation—which quickly turned into a choke when he realized that the damned idiotic boy had pulled the scalding hot pan out of the oven with his _bare hands_. The tray of cookies clattered to the floor as Leo latched onto Chris's hands to inspect the damage. Just because the boy was half whitelighter didn't mean he was indestructible! But there weren't any signs that Chris had just been holding a baking sheet that had been sitting in a hot oven for the past fifteen minutes. There was no red irritated skin or white bubbling blisters. His hands looked fine.

At a loss for words, Leo sought out Chris's eyes questioningly. The boy gnawed at his lower lip insecurely as he retracted his hand, before looking down at the ruined cookies mournfully. He sighed and bent down to pick them all up, once again lifting the hot baking sheet with his bare hand. He dumped the ruined batch into the trash bin and began washing the baking sheet for the next batch, which hopefully would remain edible after he pulled them out of the oven this time. Once they were stowed away safely in the oven, he set the timer and turned back around to face Leo, who thankfully had kept quiet while he internally debated with himself.

Leaning back against the counter, he crossed his arms over his chest defensively. "So…"

"You're an Elemental." It wasn't a question, just a statement of fact.

Chris winched and took a deep breath. "… Yes."

Leo's mind was in just as much turmoil as it had been when he'd discovered that his niece was one of these incredibly rare and coveted beings. All the things he had ever said and done to Chris seemed to echo in the forefront of his mind, and he felt guilt pool in the center of his chest. He had already regretted being so cruel and suspicious to him but now this just made him feel ten times worse. He had threatened to kill an Elemental! Why hadn't Chris just told them what he was? He would have been more cooperative, as would everyone. One does not simply refuse an Elemental… but would they have believed him?

"I…" Leo began, wanting to apologize to him.

"This changes nothing." Chris said resolutely.

Leo blinked in astonishment. "But Chris, if you tell the Elders they wouldn't dare to interfere again. And the sisters—"

"No!" Chris said loudly, shaking his head almost wildly. He steadied himself and shook his head again, this time more firmly. "No. I… I don't… what I am shouldn't matter…" he muttered, and Leo was sure he hadn't meant to say it out loud—the Elder decided not to comment on it. Chris looked up, his sea green eyes alit with an inner fire that Leo just now noticed. "They don't need to know. You shouldn't even know. And it doesn't matter anyway."

As much as Leo would have loved to argue that, yes, it _did_ matter, he couldn't bring himself to say much of anything as Chris hung his head. The boy was so damn insecure, Leo realized. He understood now, by looking at Chris's slightly defeated form. Chris was just a child who was forced to grow up too quickly in a world where he had to fight and kill to survive. Chris didn't want to flaunt his status because he wanted them to like him for who he was. He wanted approval from them… he wanted acceptance.

Leo dropped the matter for now.

The timer Chris had set rang shrilly throughout the silent kitchen, and Leo had to stave the instinct to grab Chris's hand when he, once again, used his _bare hands_ to remove the cookies from the oven. Even knowing that Chris was an Elemental—and one that had to do with heat, at that!—he felt this inexplicable need to check his hands for burns, a need that took him by surprise. Of course he didn't want Chris to get hurt, he wouldn't wish harm on anyone who wasn't a demon or a warlock, but this was different. Just the sight of watching Chris's hands touch something that Leo knew would cause crippling pain to most people made his stomach churn. He barely held in his breath of relief when the last batch of cookies were set upon the cooling rack and the hot pan left on the stove to also cool before it could be washed and put away.

Chris set the cookies out on the bar on a platter once they were cool enough to eat, and Leo took it upon himself to grab them both a small glass of plain white milk. After hesitating for a moment, Chris took the stool across from Leo and grabbed a cookie while he sipped at the milk. Neither spoke for the longest time, and the silence eventually got to Leo. He couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't, somehow, cause Chris to clam up and possibly orb away. His thoughts kept coming back to him being an Elemental. He had so many questions he wanted to ask—what was it like? Was he chosen for the gift or born with it? What kind of element did he have, was it just mild heat or was he one of the greater elements? All these questions in his head and he knew should he ask, he wouldn't get an answer.

"Erm," Leo cleared his throat after his third cookie. He cleared it again and shifted on the uncomfortable bar stool, and readjusted his shirt to smooth out the wrinkles. "Erm."

Chris sighed and pushed the half empty glass of milk away from him. "Just ask, Leo."

"What kind of element are you?"

"… Fire."

Leo inhaled deeply. That made sense—Chris had said that Phoenicia was an _Air_ Elemental, so of course the one she was bonded to had to be equally powerful. "The greater elements are rare, right?"

Chris nodded and licked his lips. "There are a few of the lesser elements, such as smoke and heat or lava born every few years, but the last _true _Fire Elemental was born over two thousand years ago. His name is Fire Master Helicon."

"And you." Leo stated, shaking his head in awe. Chris was the last greater element born in two thousand years. Leo only had basic knowledge about Elementals, but he knew they governed themselves differently than most races. For instance, he knew that the greater elements—Air, Fire, Water and Earth—were considered almost like royalty in the Elemental race. They controlled every aspect of their element, whereas the lesser elements could only control just one part deriving from it.

"… I've not been born yet."

The Elder stilled at the interruption to his thoughts. He processed what Chris said and his eyes went wide. "What?" he breathed out in horror. "Do you know how… how dangerous this is!?" he demanded loudly, feeling irrationally angry. He and the other Elders had been under the impression that, while Chris was in the past, he had at least been born already! "Who in their right mind let you travel to the past knowing that you'd be coming to a time _before_ you were born?"

Chris looked taken aback by the strong reaction, and immediately went on the defensive. "Nobody _let_ me come here, Leo, I did it because I had to!" He glared at the older man, just daring him to come up with a retort, before he noticed that the rest of his milk had already begun to boil in the glass in his hands and calming himself down before he lost control. "Anything else?" he asked quietly after a moment.

Leo sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. "I didn't mean to upset you Chris," he told him honestly. "But do you know how dangerous it is to go back _before_ you're born? From what you just said, I'm going to guess that you went on this little trip without telling the Elders…?" Chris's small wince was enough confirmation for him. "There's a reason why the Elders monitor time travelers so much Chris. Just by being here, you're changing everything, even," he continued when the boy made to interrupt in protest. "_Even_ unintentionally, you're changing things. What if you accidently bump into one of your parents while you're here? If they see you, you could change their history, and you could cease to exist…"

Chris's throat constricted as he bit back a bitter laugh. "… I know." He smiled slightly, shaking his head. His eyes felt strangely irritated. "I knew the risks when I decided to come here. I still know that if I so much as bend a blade of grass by stepping on it that something might change. And that the longer I stay, the more I'm changing… but you didn't live there. It's worth the risk."

"… No life is more precious than another, Chris," Leo told him softly. "_Your_ life is just as important as everyone else. And whoever told you differently were _wrong_…." He felt strange as Chris tilted his head up to look at him, a searching look on his face. Leo wasn't sure what he was looking for, but apparently Chris found it because a small, genuine smile, just like the ones he seemed to reserve for Phoenicia, appeared on his face. His sea green eyes were bright, a shiny gleam to them that spoke of unshed tears. It made Leo's throat feel strangely constricted and his chest tight. "So…" he swallowed thickly. "… Any luck with that miracle potion of yours?" Leo asked in an attempt to distract himself.

Chris shoulders relaxed at the change of subject and he nodded eagerly. "The first few attempts could have gone a little better, but I'm hoping to be done with it in the next few days," He couldn't hide the excitement and impatience he felt. He wanted so badly to be able to converse with Phoenicia while she was completely coherent.

Leo, however, blinked at him uncertainly. "Doesn't it take… months to a year to develop potions? Or at least a few weeks?"

"… Yes. If you're starting from scratch," Chris agreed, smirking slightly. "But that's not what I'm doing. I'm actually just revising an ancient potion that helps… seers." He coughed slightly. "It's supposed to help them for hours at a time, to keep their minds intact so they don't go insane from the Sight. Um… I'm basically just trying to attune it to her. I… it won't really be a miracle potion," His head hung for a moment, shoulders slumped. "But it will help her focus. She can to it briefly by herself right now but the potion… it just makes it easier to stay focused for longer. And it will help her be more like herself instead of…"

The Elder nodded as Chris trailed off unhappily. "Sounds complicated,"

"… Not really." Chris told him. "I've always been good with potions."

"I'm not very good with potions," Leo admitted sheepishly. "The only ones I've made have all been in the Book of Shadows and even then I only really stood by and handed the girls ingredients. I'm not very familiar with the whole development process."

Chris shrugged it off easily. "You've already done more in six years than most whitelighter do in six or seven decades. Most whitelighters stay behind the scenes and just keep watch. I think there's a rule that they're not really supposed to reveal themselves as a whitelighter unless they're caught using magic somehow," He eyed Leo questioningly.

"Yes," the Elder confirmed. "A whitelighter isn't supposed to interfere with their charges, unless the charge knows what they are already. I got caught by Phoebe,"

Chris tilted his head. "And after that, it didn't stay secret," he said, knowing his aunt's inability to keep secrets.

"Actually," Leo smiled in reminisce. "She attempted to keep it quiet like I asked her to, but I know she told them. Prue and Piper didn't believe her though. I think it wasn't until I was attacked by a darklighter that they all knew what I was,"

Chris had a pensive frown on his face. "… I hadn't known that," he confessed.

Leo narrowed his eyes slightly. "And why would you?"

Licking his lips, Chris shrugged. "Mia always talked about her aunts,"

It was another lie, Leo knew, but he decided to let it slide. "How long have you known Phoenicia?" the Elder questioned, trying his best to make it sound as casual as possible.

Again, Chris merely shrugged. "Since we were kids,"

"You two seem close," Leo observed.

Chris nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at his lips. "We are. People used to call me Peat, and her Repeat, because whatever I did she did, and visa-versa. She's always been my best friend. My sister…"

_Well,_ Leo thought. _There goes the soulmate theory_… He had been almost positive that Phoenicia and Chris were soulmates, but that couldn't be right if Chris thought of her as a sister. A sibling bond would mean… Leo swallowed slightly. It would mean that Chris was Phoebe's son, either by a twin bond or by a familial one. Either way, it would mean that Chris was his nephew, by blood or by magic.

Now that he put some thought into it, he could actually picture Chris as part of their family. He had the same hair, the same smile, and he'd definitely inherited the family sarcasm. If, that is, he was really a Halliwell, which Leo was beginning to believe was a real possibility. Even his name, Chris Perry… _Christopher Perry Halliwell, _Leo mused. It had a pleasant ring to it. Christopher was a good, strong name. It had been Leo's own father's name as well. Although there was something about what Chris had said that might blow his theory of Phoebe being the young man's mother out of the running too—Chris said that his mother taught him to cook. No offence against Phoebe, because Leo knew that this was years into the future and she could have changed in that time but… at the moment, Phoebe could burn water.

"Leo?"

The Elder blinked. "Hmm?"

"You okay?" Chris asked cautiously.

Leo nodded, though inwardly his stomach churned. "Just thinking about something,"

"What?"

"… Your parents," Leo answered honestly, and he knew this would happen so he didn't show any sign of noticing the way Chris's body stilled in an instant and his face went blank. "They must know us if you and Phoenicia are so close," he said softly, eyes watching carefully every slight movement the boy made. "And I know that your father is an Elder—"

"How do you know that?" Chris demanded.

"You told me,"

Chris's sea green eyes shone brightly as he glared. "No I didn't."

Leo sighed and relented. "No, not intentionally at least," He continued before Chris could even demand another explanation. After all, he has wanted to talk to Chris about this since he discovered it but he had never had the opportunity seeing as Chris was either by Phoenicia's side, attending to her every need, or the sisters were nearby and within hearing range. "When you collapsed yesterday, you woke up for a few minutes. You weren't exactly censoring yourself for once… and you talked…"

The boy's throat convulsed nervously and he bowed his head so that his hair covered his eyes. "What did I say?"

"Well, first you called me dad," Leo chuckled in remembrance, only to have his laughter fade as Chris's head shot up, his eyes searching. Leo felt his mouth go dry. _Chris has my eyes,_ he realized with a sinking feeling deep within his stomach. Chris had his eyes. He had Piper's temper and her sarcasm. His father was an Elder and his mother a witch. And his mother had taught him how to cook… and Chris _had_ called him 'dad' before, he recalled, even if only sarcastically.

"Heh," Chris laughed, shaking his head but Leo didn't buy it. The laugh sounded forced and fake and Leo was sure he was reading too much into this. Chris couldn't possibly be his son. Could he…? "My dad! Wow, I must need glasses," The young man shook his head. "I mean sure, you and him are both Elders but he's nothing like you. First of all, his hair his white and most people mistake him for either a biker or a demon. And the personalities are completely wrong. My old man always put his work first, above all else. He didn't even know I existed until I was almost seven, and even then he didn't care. You're all about family," he tailed off, voice small and sad, looking away.

"Yeah," Leo shook his head, knowing that Chris was at least speaking honestly for a change. He could hear it in the tone of his voice. Even Chris couldn't fake sadness and resentment like that. "I guess it is a bit ridicules," Of course the thought had been ludicrous; Chris couldn't possibly be his son. He and Piper weren't even together anymore, even if it was still unofficial. There was no way in hell she was getting him to sign divorce papers—just because he agreed to keep his distance _in that way_ didn't mean he was ready to see her married off to another man. And how could he have thought Chris was his son? Although… Leo could recall several other times where he entertained the thought of Chris being his son, just because of his mannerisms… but he was sure he was just trying to justify his changing and newfound feelings for Chris because the boy was getting under his skin and making him care.

"So," Chris said, clearing his throat. "Did I… did I say anything else…? When I was…"

"Yes, you did," Leo answered softly. "You spoke about the _Witch Extermination _and _Control Department._ You told me that you were taken there and that you were put into the same encampment as… as Mia," Leo suddenly realized why that nickname had seemed so familiar—Chris had spoken of her breaking a man's neck without even looking at him. Leo wasn't too sure how he felt about his niece killing a man. "You told me they took you to an arena where they trained you to kill." He felt sympathy when Chris winced but continued on anyway. "You mentioned Breeding Facilities, said that they needed an army because witches and demons had some kind of alliance… and I saw the brand on the back of your neck."

Chris's hand automatically went to the back of his neck, and Leo watched as realization washed over his pale and almost devastated face. And then something strange happened, something he had seen many times before when dealing with shapeshifters or even just spells. Chris changed right before his eyes. His hair shortened so that it didn't curl at the ends but instead just flared out in a windswept way. His skin regained some color that he'd lost since yesterday, which Leo had been under the impression was merely just another symptom of a bond being restored. Instead of having dark purple circles beneath his eyes, his skin was clear and a soft tanned color, his cheeks filling out and loosing the hollowed look. And his scars… the ones on his arms, in view because the sleeves of his flannel shirt were rolled up to the elbow, faded away into smooth, clear skin. Leo noted that these changes not only affected his face but his entire body, making him look like the young, fit whitelighter who appeared to be at least over twenty that he had become accustom to.

"A glamour," Leo stated plainly. He suddenly realized why he had noticed so much about Chris in the last twenty-four hours than he had in the last few months. It wasn't just that he hadn't been paying attention, that he'd been too blinded by his dislike to notice. Chris had been hiding his true form from them since the beginning. "You've been wearing a glamour… this whole time, you've been wearing a glamour."

"So?" Chris bit out defensively. "What, are glamours a crime? Going to have my soul recycled because I want to look taller? Even you've got to admit that if you were only five foot five inches, you'd want to be taller too!"

Leo shook his head slowly. "You're not wearing it because you want to be taller, Chris," Though Chris did appear to be taller now, he also looked immensely more healthy than he had previously. If Chris had been wearing glamour all this time, and what he'd looked like since yesterday was his true form, no wonder Leo took notice. It would have been hard not to.

"Who cares," the boy said flippantly. "It's not like I'm doing anything wrong."

"I didn't say that you were," the Elder said quietly. "I'm just concerned about you."

The admission made Chris blink in confusion. He stared at Leo unsurely, wondering _why_ the older man would be concerned about him. "You can't tell anyone," he told him, an almost desperate plea in his voice as he decided to drop the act and loose the sarcastic remarks. Leo already knew why he wore it anyway or at least had his theories and Chris didn't want anyone else finding out about them. "Please?"

"I won't tell anyone…" Leo told him honestly after some consideration. "On one condition,"

A small pinch formed between Chris's eyebrows. "What?" he asked warily.

"All I want, Chris, is for you to answer me one question," Leo, anticipating the younger man's objections, continued quickly. "Just one and I don't think it has much to do with the future or who you are… I just want a straight answer from you. No avoidance, no lying. Just an answer, and you have my word that I'll not tell anyone what you've told me or what I know about you." He waited patiently as he watched Chris weigh his options. Finally, after a long silence, Chris nodded his assent. "Why did you send me to Valhalla?"

Chris's already tense form coiled even tighter, his lips pressed in a fine line. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said, perhaps using a more forceful tone than necessary.

Leo's eyebrows rose. "… I'd prefer the truth, Chris."

Nervously chewing on his lip, Chris shook his head. "You said it didn't have to do with the future,"

"I didn't think it did," Leo responded. "Was it punishment for something I do to you in the future?"

"No!" Chris shook his head adamantly. "I… I may not like you, but I wouldn't punish you for something you haven't done! It would be hypocritical, seeing as I came here to save your son from becoming a megalomaniac and trying to take over the world, wouldn't it?"

"… I'm under the impression that Wyatt's not the only reason for coming here," Leo said quietly. "And I'm not judging you Chris. Even if you did send me there out of some sort of misplaced sense of revenge, or if you were just trying to keep me out of the way because I threatened you… I just want to know… why did you send me to Valhalla?" he asked again.

Chris sighed deeply, his shoulders rounding. "… It was partly because I wanted you out of the way," he admitted softly, adverting his eyes from Leo's so he wouldn't have to look at them and see the anger and hatred he knew would be there. "But it was more than that. You… you had to learn what the valkyries teach. They train warriors, they train them to become the ultimate fighters… you had to learn how to fight… because sometime in the future, there is an attack on all of the Elders. And the demons who attack… they don't rely on magic or their powers… they use brutal force. And even though you weren't killed in the initial attack… you were gravely injured and died a few weeks later. We don't have many healers in the future…"

Leo stared at him silently before nodding. "Thank you." He smiled when Chris looked at him in surprise. "It wasn't what I expected, but at least I understand why you did it now."

"I… you're welcome," Chris replied unsurely.

"You know," Leo said candidly as he relaxed into his chair. "I think I'm beginning to understand you a bit." He grinned when Chris snorted at the absurdity of his statement. "No really," the Elder insisted with a smile. "At first, I'll admit that I thought every word you spoke was just one lie on top of another. But now… now I'm not so sure. I actually think that there might be a bit of truth in everything you say."

Eyebrows raised in bemusement, Chris shrugged. "Alright, you want to decipher me, go right ahead," he said caustically. "I doubt you're half as right as you think you are."

Leo raised an eyebrow of his own at the challenge. "Let's start with Paige," he said, taking the younger man by surprise. "You told us that she died when the Titans attacked… right?" He waited until Chris gave a nod of confirmation before continuing. "I don't think she died. Or perhaps she did, but she came back somehow. Halliwells are notoriously hard to kill," he smirked when Chris stared at him in shock. "From your expression, I guess I'm right…?"

Chris was silent for a moment but he eventually took a deep breath and shook his head. "Okay… during the attack, yes, Paige died. There was nothing anyone could do to revive her and with her death, the power of three also died. The world was in chaos for months, and the titans were relentless. They attacked everyone and everything, but thankfully it had mostly to do with the weather and the mortals just thought it was Armageddon. And then… a very smart Elder decided to break the rules and infuse Piper and Phoebe with the power of the gods. They were able to defeat the titans, probably much in the same way as they did this time. After they gave up the power, Paige returned as a whitelighter. And as you know, a full whitelighter doesn't have wiccan powers, so therefore the power of three still couldn't be reconstituted. She wasn't assigned to Piper and Phoebe at first, but eventually she got her way… or so I'm told."

"So _I _wasn't the one to give the girls the power of the gods in your time then," Leo noted. "I don't know why you changed that particular point in history, but I hope it was worth it." There was an underlying anger in his tone that he couldn't conceal. So Chris had intentionally turned him into an Elder. And for what purpose? So he could be separated from Piper even more than he already was?

"I didn't plan it…" Chris said urgently. "I… it wasn't supposed to happen that way. You were the only Elder that I knew and trusted here, and I knew you could explain it better to the girls in case the power went to their heads. I forgot that you were just a whitelighter in this time. It didn't occur to me… besides instead of months, the titans were only here for a few days…"

"I was an Elder in your time?" Leo asked. "And you actually trust me in the future?"

Chris blinked. "Uh… you're Phoenicia's uncle. Of course I trusted you. And yes, you're an Elder in the future. I may have sped the process up a few months, since you weren't supposed to become one until February." He shrugged helplessly. "I didn't really change much. You left the next day after becoming an Elder, kind of like you did here. Only… you were gone for about seven years before anyone saw you again."

Leo shook his head. "How did I become an Elder?"

"… I'm not sure." Chris replied. "No one ever told me that particular story."

"So what else? Any more lies or half-truths I should know about?" Leo tried to keep his voice even, but it seemed as if his tone irked Chris even if he hadn't meant it to.

"It's never enough, is it?" Chris bit out waspishly. "Fine! You know what, I give up. You really want to know what I've _not_ been telling you these past months. Fine! Not only about you and Paige, but Phoebe wasn't supposed to get her empathy power until Mia was born, and I honestly don't know how I changed that but apparently I did! Paige was supposed to become the new family whitelighter once you're gone but we both know that isn't going to happened because, first of all, she isn't dead, and second, you hang around here enough that they wouldn't need it anyway. Luke… god, Luke," Chris shook his head. "He isn't supposed to be here yet but when he senses Mia, I have no doubt that he'll show up. Although, that's something I'm not actually upset about. Because, honestly, as much as Luke scares the shit out of me, I've always wished that I could change the horrible childhood he had, so I guess I'm going to get my wish. Let's see, anything else?" Chris demanded. "Oh, I know! I've barely killed off half the demons that could be responsible for turning Wyatt, and that's only because your precious power of three are too caught up in their own damn pathetic lives to give me a hand! I go hunting every single day. Last night was probably the best sleep I've had since I got here because I'm always either hunting or researching. Oh. And I haven't even _attempted_ to look for the demon that kills Piper in about fifteen years, give or take, because I'm honestly not concerned about it anymore since she's fighting me with every turn! So right now, Mia, Luke, and Wyatt are the only reasons I give a damn about what happens to you people anymore, so back the hell off!"

Breathing heavily after his rant, Chris slumped on his stool after he realized that during some point he'd been shouting, he had risen to his feet and had been crowding Leo. His mouth pinched in a grimace and he realized absently that the beautiful flowers on the counter had caught fire in his anger—a fire which he quickly extinguished, but it was too late to salvage the poor plants. He hadn't meant to reveal so much. He should have left after the cookies were done, as he originally wanted. His father had always been able to get under his skin, even when he didn't mean to. And Chris's powers had always tended to make him more hotheaded, as Phoenicia liked to say. They made him more emotional, more prone to anger. He was going to have to be more careful from now on.

Leo himself was shocked of the younger man's outburst. He tried not to smile when he heard Chris mutter about stupid cross-dressing Elders who thought they knew everything. He surely hadn't meant to ruin the casual mood by making Chris angry, but apparently he was horrible at tact when a certain neurotic whitelighter was nearby. The Elder watched as Chris eventually stood up and began methodically doing the dishes. It was something he'd seen Piper do a thousand times to distract herself, a type of therapy he supposed. Leo stood and placed his own empty glass in the sink, making sure to snatch up one more delicious cookie before taking his seat.

Chris shook his head at Leo. "You're going to make yourself sick," he commented, calming down at the familiarity of the situation. Wyatt always loved his cooking, and made it a point to sneak as many cookies as possible. He had, even once, said that he preferred Chris's to their mother's, which in itself was a bit of a shocker. Chris had always known that he was a better cook than most in their family, but even he wasn't arrogant enough to say that he surpassed his mother's culinary genius. And the way Leo snatched up another cookie from the platter, it was so much like Wyatt that it almost hurt.

"_Please Christina," his brother pleaded._

"_You know," Chris said with a smirk. "Calling me that isn't going to make me very cooperative,"_

"_Alright, alright. Christopher," Wyatt said reluctantly._

"_Yes?" he asked sweetly._

_Scowling with impatience, Wyatt glared. "Will you please make me some cookies?"_

_Chris held back his snicker and fingered his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm… I'll have to think about that," He couldn't help but laugh when Wyatt's glare increased. "Okay, big brother, I'll make you some cookies." Wyatt let out a whoop and threw one of his heavy muscular arms around Chris's smaller form, grinning from ear to ear. "What kind do you want?"_

_When the big lug finally let him go, he answered. "Peanut butter?"_

"_Sure," Chris agreed, smiling. "But I thought sugar cookies were your favorite?"_

_Wyatt only shrugged. "They are," he said easily. "But no one ever makes your favorite."_

Chris sighed softly as the memory came to him. It was the day before his thirteenth birthday, and Wyatt had been trying his best all day to keep his mind off of the fact that his parents had forgotten the significance of the day. Again. It always hurt, especially since Wyatt's birthdays were always considered a major holiday. No one ever forgot Wyatt's birthday—his were always planned months in advance. But still, it hadn't been horrible. Wyatt had been the ultimate distraction, as usual, and his uncles and Grandpa Victor had remembered, as had Grams and Grandma Patty. And Wyatt had given him the best gift he could have ever asked for—he had arranged for them to go to the institution where Phoenicia was being held… at that point in time, she had been hurt and angry but still herself. And Chris had been in such a good mood that he wasn't so upset that when they got home, his mother had attempted to ground Chris for leaving without permission. He almost winched at the reminder—Wyatt had been incredibly pissed off about _that_ little detail.

"_You're grounding him?" Wyatt asked their mother in a deadly calm voice. "Today of all days?"_

"_He needs to start taking responsibility for his actions," Piper claimed._

_Wyatt's fists curled into balls at his sides. "Then ground me, I'm the one who took him out," he said scathingly. "I've been planning to take him to see Phoenicia for the past month, and you even agreed that I could."_

_Piper shook her head. "You said you wanted to take him for his birthday,"_

_Wyatt narrowed his eyes as his nostrils flared with anger. "Neither of us should be in trouble then," he growled, the only thing stopping him from doing something he'd regret the warm, calming hand of his brother holding him back."Considering that today is October first. Maybe," Wyatt said viciously as shock washed over her face. "If you'd actually _remember _that you had more than one son every once in a while, you wouldn't forget simple facts like his goddamned birthday!"_ _Without even waiting to see mother's reaction or her excuses, Wyatt gently took hold of his brother's arm and orbed them to the penthouse apartment where their uncle lived._

Forgetting about his birthday the third year in a row had been the last straw for Wyatt, Chris remembered. He wasn't sure what his brother would have done to Piper that day if Chris hadn't been holding him back, but he knew it wouldn't have been pleasant. Wyatt had violent tendencies, even then, and especially where Chris and Phoenicia were involved. And it wasn't when he was visibly angry that you had to watch out for, it was when he was calm, calculating… that's when people should either hide behind Chris or beg for an Angel of Death to take them before the Prince of Darkness got hold.

"Chris?"

Brought out of his thoughts, the young man in question looked up at the Elder questioningly. "Yeah?"

"Where'd you go?" Leo asked him with concern.

"Sorry," Chris muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I guess I zone out when I'm tired."

_More like emotionally exhausted…_ the Elder frowned. "Why don't you go lay down," he offered, smiling gently when Chris looked at him in surprise. "I'll finish cleaning up. Take one of the sofas or one of the free beds upstairs. The girls won't be back for a few hours yet, so that should be plenty of time for you to take a nap."

Chris thought about the offer, considering it. He _was_ tired… nodding his head, he bade Leo goodbye and immediately orbed up to the second landing of the house. He was pulled to Phoebe's room, knowing that his twin was resting in there. He wasn't brave enough to tempt fate and try sleeping in Piper's room, and even though he knew Paige was more tolerant of him, he didn't want to make her angry by entering her room without her permission.

Closing the door behind him, Chris looked around the room and shook his head at the sight before him. Phoenicia was sprawled out on one side of the bed on her stomach, her head buried in the feather soft pillow and all of the blankets pushed into a mountain at the foot of the bed. Chris crawled onto the empty side and pulled the covers back over her, and, predictably, she kicked them right back off within a matter of seconds. He snickered at her reaction and decided to leave it as that, pulling the covers over himself. As soon as he settled down, an arm inched over his chest and he felt the pressure of Phoenicia's head in the crook of his shoulder as she snuggled closer.

"Sweet dreams, Mia," he whispered into her hair after pressing the gentlest of kissed to the crown of her head.

"…g'night, Chrissie," she mumbled back sleepily.

**End  
Chapter**

This chapter came out longer than I'd planned but I couldn't shorten it any without making a mess of things, so I do apologize if it's a bit too long for everyone's tastes. Also, someone brought it to my attention that, if you don't know a person named Phoenicia, you might not know how to pronounce it. And since the only Phoenicia I know is my cousin, I only know how to pronounce it as _Foe-knee-sha_… You know the saying, _po_tato-po_tat_o, to_mato_-_tom_ato? Same thing really, so go ahead and interpret the name how you will :)

Until next week,

Lynx…


	6. The Elder

**Finding Yourself  
The Elder**

**Monday, November 24****th****, 2003  
**_The silence of the uninhabited attic was broken by slight click as the door was unlocked followed by a long, drawn out squeak of the hinges as it was pushed open slowly by a pair of delicate small hands. A head peeked through the opening, dark hair falling into sea green eyes as he scanned the room for any sign of someone. He wasn't supposed to be here, this was the room that they all told him never to enter. But he was curious. His brother was allowed to come here, why shouldn't he?_

_The eight year old found no logic in why he wasn't allowed in the attic, and so he entered the room more fully once he was sure that no one was inside. Closing and locking the door behind him, he stared around in awe. He had seen some of the items before, usually in the hands of his parents or his aunts, but never just laying about so casually. He walked around slowly, taking in everything with bright curious eyes. He didn't dare touch anything though, as much as he longed to. If he was discovered entering this sacred room he'd been forbidden to see his punishment would be bad enough. _

_When he reached the far end of the vast room, his eyes were drawn to the podium supporting a heavy leather-bound book upon it. The book was much larger than anything he had ever seen, and he recognized the family emblem on the cover of it. It was the Book of Shadows. Excitement surged through him as he approached the majestic book. His brother had spoken of it before, said it was compiled with countless demons and potions and spells. Wyatt had said that there was an enchantment on the book as well that made sure that nothing evil could touch it. Cautiously, he inched his small hand closer until it was hovering just above the leather. He slowly lowered his hand, holding his breath until his flesh met the book… nothing happened. Relieved that he was, in fact, not evil, Chris was just about to open the book to the first page when he heard someone begin to climb up the stairs._

_Afraid he was about to be caught in the one place he shouldn't be, Chris looked around for a safe place to hide. His breath hitched, and he ducked behind a depilated sofa by the large window. He curled into himself and tried not to make any sound as he heard footsteps finally reach the door. He tensed as he heard the same click from the lock, followed by the long squeak. Burying his face in his knees, Chris wished with all his might that whoever it was wouldn't find him._

"… _Chris?"_

_An instant relief filled the small boy's entire being as he recognized his older brother's voice. Chris rolled over back onto his feet and rose from his hiding spot—his brother could probably sense him here anyway—unafraid of letting Wyatt know he was breaking the rules. He trusted him not to tell. Chris spotted the small frown on the older boy's face as blue eyes scanned the room._

"_Chris," Wyatt called again, entering the room fully and turning around in a complete circle before kneeling to peek under the sofa Chris was standing behind. His frown intensified and he stood, waving his hand over the seat of the sofa questioningly. "Chris," His voice had taken on a panicked edge. "This is not the time for hide and seek," he said almost desperately. _

_Chris waved his hand right in front of Wyatt's face, unsure why his brother was acting so strange. There was no reaction to his movement at all, and Wyatt's eyes were wild. "I'm right here Wy," he told him, but Wyatt moved around the couch his arms moving around as if he were trying to feel for something invisible. "Wyatt?" he said uncertainly when the older boy's hand brushed his arm and there was still no reaction. Chris reached out and grabbed the hand as it moved around him and he tugged on his brother's sleeve. "Look at me!"_

_Wyatt stilled and then looked directly at the smaller boy's face. "Chris," he burst out, practically yanking his brother to him and trapping him within his tight embrace. A moment later he pulled back, taking Chris's chin between his fingers and turning his face side to side to inspect for any damage. Once satisfied, he then lifted up his brother's shirt to further continue with his inspection, but Chris pulled it down with a scowl. _

"_I'm fine!" he told him._

_Wyatt narrowed his eyes. "Why couldn't I see you?" he demanded angrily, though his anger was not in any way directed at Chris. Wyatt was more upset than anything—Chris could have been lying up here in a puddle of blood and he wouldn't have found him. It scared him to think about it. "I couldn't even sense you, damn it! It was like you just ceased to exist."_

_The younger boy winced slightly at his brother's cursing and looked at him curiously. "… What do you mean?" he asked quietly. His big brother could always sense him, even when he'd been kidnapped and taken to the underworld. Wyatt had still sensed him. And ever since then, Wyatt had been keeping an even closer eye on him than before._

"_I sensed you come up here," Wyatt explained as calmly as he could, but he refused to release his tight hold on his brother. "So I followed you because I don't want you to get in trouble. At least if I'm up here with you, I can say that I just wanted to show you everything. But when I opened the door, you were… you were gone." Wyatt's voice was anguished, as if it was the worst pain he'd ever felt. "What happened?"_

"_I…I…" Chris floundered for an answer. "I just didn't want to get caught,"_

"_Did you cast a spell?"_

"_No!" he shook his head adamantly. "No, you told me not to unless I'm with you,"_

_Wyatt nodded his head in approval. "Then why did you disappear?"_

"_I don't know," Chris said helplessly. "I heard footsteps and I just didn't want to be caught!"_

_The older boy paused, his eyes alit with recognition. "Chris did you…" Wyatt shook his head, a small smile forming on his lips. "I think you just received a new power," he said, his eyes shining with pride. He chuckled when he saw the confusion in his baby brother's sea green eyes. "Leo can hide himself like just like that. I've seen him do it before. He called it cloaking. It's almost like being invisible, I think, but more than that. Someone could touch you, and they wouldn't even feel it. You could scream and no one… no one would hear you," Wyatt didn't sound as if he liked that particular part. "At least, not unless you wanted them to,"_

_Chris looked worried. "Is it good?"_

"_Yes," Wyatt said firmly, squeezing his shoulders. "It's very good. It means that if you're scared and alone, that you can hide until I find a way to find you. We just have to make sure that you don't hide from _me_ again, so that I can still sense you." He pulled away and adopted an almost hurt look. "Why did you hide from me anyway?"_

_Rolling his eyes, Chris shook his head. "I didn't know it was you, dummy,"_

_Wyatt pouted. "I'm not a dummy," he said snootily, turning his nose up. He grinned when his brother laughed at his antics before he frowned curiously. "How did you get up here anyway? You don't have a key like I do…" _

_Chris lowered his chin to his chest at the question and pulled away from his brother, turning to face the still open doorway. Narrowing his eyes in concentration, Chris raised one hand and, with the slightest of motions, the door closed gently and a resounding click echoed as the lock moved into place. His shoulders sagged with nervousness and he gnawed on his bottom lip._

_Wyatt's cerulean blue eyes moved away from the door, and he sighed slightly, taking his brother's chin in his hands and frowning. "Don't bite your lip, you're gonna make it bleed again," he chided softly. After Chris did as he said and released the swollen and abused lip, he allowed a small smile to form on his lips. "You've been practicing without me," he noted._

_Chris winched and nodded pitifully. "I'm sorry,"_

_Wyatt shook his head in exasperation, giving his brother's small shoulder a nudge. "Don't be sorry. That was much better than making a pebble float," he praised. "You should be proud of yourself," Wyatt absolutely hated it that his brother felt the obsessive need to apologize for everything, especially his achievements. A familiar rage settled into the pit of his stomach, and unknown to either boy, there was a sudden unexplainable downpour over the Manor and downtown by a place known as the Bay Mirror, while a certain whitelighter and Elder were hit by hail in a sacred place where weather should not exist while their fellow whitelighters and Elders ran for cover. Wyatt calmed slightly when his brother's hand poked him in the forehead._

"_Quit frowning," Chris said sternly. "You look like dad,"_

_The blond tensed at the mention of the man. "Worst insult ever," he said sourly._

_Chris tried, and failed, to conceal his smile. "Hey Wy," he said softly, looking pleadingly into the bright blue eyes that gazed at him questioningly. "Can I see the sword?" His brother often told him about it, how beautiful it was and how he couldn't wait until his sixteenth birthday—the day his parents had all decided was when he'd be old enough and responsible enough to carry such a burden. _

_Wyatt grabbed his hand and led him over to the corner where the sword was concealed, by stone and an old sheet. It wasn't the safest place for it, even Chris knew that, but since only two people in the world could remove the sword from its stone prison there was really no need to give it more protections. Wyatt's eyes sparkled with excitement as he removed the sheet from the sword, and Chris was captivated as a gold and silver sheen washed over him, cast by the last remnants of sunlight as the rays hit the gleaming sword. _

_A soft, gentle hum reached his ears as he neared the sword, and he smiled as the melody called to him. His eyes slid shut involuntarily and he absently wondered if the sword sang his brother lullabies as well. A wave of calmness and contentment filled him and he placed his delicate fingertips upon the gold of the hilt, fingering the runes he found there and tracing them. _

_Unbeknownst to him, Wyatt was staring in awe at the sight before him. He had once heard his little cousin Phoenicia say that Chris's aura was brilliant to look at. That it almost made her want to cry the first time she saw it because it was so incredibly beautiful. And it was. Wyatt had never once thought he'd be privileged to see his baby brother's aura and he'd certainly never thought it would happen when Chris touched Excalibur. The golden sheen of the sword blended magnificently with the crimson and amber blaze of his brother. But then… Chris retracted his hand from the sword as a shadow passed over his face and the lights died down._

_Chris shouldn't be touching Excalibur—he wasn't allowed to touch it. Excalibur belonged to Wyatt, he knew. And thus, the sweet lullaby faltered and he pulled away from the welcoming warmth that the sword was extending to him. The song dulled considerably, as did the smile that had formed. It must have been the lure of the sword he'd read about, the power it held was said to be seductive… and he'd heard that even his mother had let it go to her head when they'd first discovered Excalibur and she'd pulled it free. It wasn't meant for him, and he shouldn't touch it because he wasn't the Twice-Blessed Child, the son of a Charmed One and a whitelighter. He was just Chris, the second child that no one noticed… that no one cared about._

_And sure, he knew that his mother doted on him occasionally, teaching him how to cook within the kitchen she kept everyone out of, and his aunts were always kind to him and babysat when his mother asked them to, and his favorite uncle took him on play dates with Phoenicia… and his father, whom he'd met for the first time nearly two years ago had once taken him to a baseball game, just for the two of them. But Chris knew he was unimportant most of the time, insignificant. Wyatt's name was the first one of their lips when a demon attacked, and Chris was just an afterthought… should they remember him at all. _

_Normally these things didn't matter to Chris, because he knew that he came first where Wyatt and Phoenicia were concerned. They were all the parents he'd ever need. His cousin… his twin… she was constantly fussing over him, making sure he did his homework and that he ate his vegetables. She would give him this frown when he forgot to brush his teeth, and she always reminded him to comb his hair. And his brother made sure to tell him how special he was, he praised him when he accomplished things, and he even helped him discover and develop his powers so that he could control them properly—powers which his family had no knowledge of._

_Apparently everyone was under the impression the he was too young to have powers, never mind the fact that Wyatt has had powers since the womb. Chris had attempted to tell them of his powers on more than one occasion over the past few years. The first time, his mother had grounded him for telling lies and told him that he shouldn't make up stories because he was jealous of his brother. Chris had been four years old at the time and hadn't even known what jealousy was at that point. The next time was when he gained his telepathy, and he had been ecstatic because it was an amazing ability. He could hear everyone's thoughts! But when he had approached his mother to tell her… it was what he heard that made him keep quiet about it._

Why can't he be more like his brother?_ She hadn't said it out loud; it was more of an inward desperate plea to some all powerful deity. Chris could still remember with vivid detail how he'd snuck into his brother's room that night, not wanting to be as alone as he felt, and how Wyatt had held him and whispered that he was perfect the way he was… and joked that Chris wouldn't want to be the Twice-Blessed Child anyway, because who would Wyatt show off to if they were the same? Inwardly, the older boy had been thinking murderous thoughts, he knew, even though he hadn't let any anger show through that might scare Chris._

_From that point on Wyatt had decided that, since their parents were being stupid, he'd take over and make sure Chris learned everything he did, even if they had to do it in secret. And since neither boy could hide anything from Phoenicia, who was a telepath herself, she was included in their little secret study group. Wyatt had taught them both everything he knew and they had all learned from each other. Wyatt had made the decision to keep any new powers he gained secret like Chris did and Phoenicia had similarly followed suit. They told no one about it, although they all had a feeling that Phoenicia's father and Grandpa Victor knew more about what they did on their 'play dates' than they let on._

"_Chris…?"_

_The depression he had been sinking in due to the dark direction of his thoughts faded in an instant, and Chris raised his head questioningly, immediately noting the concerned expression on his brother's face. "Hmm?" Wyatt stared at him strangely for the longest moment and Chris had the urge to fidget under the heavy gaze. Whatever his brother was thinking, he wasn't planning to share because he shook his head and looked back to the sword before covering it back up with the sheet. And even though it would be so easy to just slip inside his brother's mind to find out what was wrong, Chris wouldn't pry._

"_Come on," Wyatt said calmly, the strange glint still in his eyes. "It's almost dinner time,"_

_Chris pouted slightly. "But… I haven't gotten to explore yet," _

_Before either of them could debate over whether or not to stay and let Chris explore, the old stairs that led up to the attic protested against the weight of someone climbing them. Blue and green eyes met with mutual horror and panic, and they both recognized the shrill sound of their mother's voice as she yelled. She tended to yell a lot. Wyatt gripped his brother by the elbow and led him back to his previous hiding spot, unwilling to let him get in trouble for wanting to be up here. He held Chris close as the smaller boy started to shake._

"_Can you hide us?" Wyatt asked quietly as he heard the lock shift. The younger boy squeezed his eyes shut and did as he had before, wishing with every fiber of his being that their mother and whoever she was arguing with wouldn't find them. He wasn't sure if it was working, and he buried his face in his big brother's shoulder to muffle his panicked breaths. The door opened and they both tensed._

"_No!" their mother cried. "You can't do this Leo Wyatt!"_

_A moment later, their father sighed. "Piper," Leo said reasonably. "He needs to be trained properly," Chris's heart leapt to his throat, his breath caught. He looked to his brother questioningly, silently asking if they were possibly discussing him. Was he finally going to be allowed to train with Wyatt? "He is too powerful to stay the way he is. And it'll only be for a little while," the man assured her. _

_Cautiously, the two boys peeked around the corners of the couch just in time to see their mother shake her head, angry tears forming in her eyes as she glared at her husband. "You're not taking my baby from me," she screamed. "They're the ones who are making you do this right? Well you can tell them to go to hell!"_

"_Sweetheart," Leo soothed. "We'll come down to visit every weekend, I swear,"_

"_No!"_

"_Honey, you need to think about the bigger picture here," the Elder said sternly. "I won't let him out of my sight, even for a moment. You know that. He's the most important thing in my life—our life—but right now he is a danger to himself and everyone around him. If he is to become King and rule over all magic he needs to be able to handle it,"_

"… _but he's only ten years old," she said miserably._

"_I know," Leo nodded solemnly. "I know how hard it is for you to let him go. But he needs this. And you'll still have your sisters here." The Elder caressed her face lovingly. "Chris will be here too." Piper scoffed, effectively yet unknowingly breaking the eight year old boy's already fragile heart into a million tiny orb particles. It would have hurt less if she had blown him up, he was sure._

"_It won't be the same."_

_With tears running down his face, he felt so numb that he didn't even notice that his brother was trying to comfort him, holding him and rocking him. He couldn't handle this. It hurt so much, and he couldn't breathe. Chris orbed away, unnoticed by his parents who were still wallowing in tears of their own for the son who, no longer hidden by Chris's new power, stood up to confront his parents since he couldn't sense where his brother had gone._

_Chris had, in fact, not gone very far. He had only been searching for a quiet and secluded place where he could stay until he felt ready to face anyone. So when he rematerialized, he found himself looking down upon the Bay, the busy traffic below him buzzing distantly as people rushed to get home for dinner. He was on the Bridge… it was one of his favorite spots. It was where his father had brought him after his first and only baseball game… when Leo still cared about him. _

_The small boy collapsed onto the cold surface, curing up into a ball as he hugged his knees to his chest. He was sure no one would think to look for him here, if they even bothered looking for him in the first place. Only his father… only _Leo_ knew about this place. And Leo had stopped coming here once he started to train Wyatt. Now it was his and his alone, and right now he was glad he was by himself. _

_After an unidentifiable amount of time, Chris rested his chin atop his knees and stared out at the ocean. He reached one hand up to wipe the tears away from his eyes, taking a deep breath while trying to get a reign on his emotions. He wasn't sure how long he'd been up here, but judging by the fact that the stars were hanging bright in the velvet black sky, but he still wasn't ready to face anyone even though he was beginning to feel a bit hungry. Because how could he face his mother after she had admitted, even without really saying anything, what he'd feared for half of his short life?_

_That she didn't love him…_

Dark eyelashes fluttered open and his sea green eyes peered up at the ceiling in a blank unseeing way. Chris remembered that day all too well, unfortunately enough. It had been a turning point in his life. When he had only speculated that his family didn't care for him as much as he wanted them to, he had done everything he could to please them, to make them proud of him. But once he learned the reality of it… he just ceased to care. He stopped trying to show his mother his report card when he got good grades, and he stopped asking his father if he could go with him to another baseball game for his birthday… he barely spoke to them. The only ones exempt from this were his brother, his cousin, and his grandfather.

Chris blinked and looked down when he felt Phoenicia shift in his arms.

"Darkness?" she queried. "Darkness is nipping at your soul,"

"Yes," he nodded briefly, tightening his hold on her.

Phoenicia scowled darkly. "Trying to snuff out the light,"

"… I suppose," Chris sighed in agreement.

"It won't work," his twin whispered. "A Phoenix shines like sunlight, even in the dark."

Chris smiled at her and nodded his head to show her that he understood. "I know, Mia," he promised her and she smiled back at him contently before resting her head on his chest, her eyes falling closed moments later. Chris shook his head, knowing that she had in fact fallen asleep on top of his on purpose so he would be trapped and forced to either wake her or go back to sleep. She was sneaky like that. With a sigh, he decided to simply give in and closed his eyes. Within moments his breathing evened out and he was asleep.

Standing in the open doorway of her room, Phoebe wasn't sure how she should react as she watched her annoying, neurotic whitelighter from the future fall asleep in the same bed as her future daughter. She was still trying to understand what it meant to be a mother, especially since she did not feel like one in the slightest. And to top it all off, Phoenicia seemed to hate her. Or, at the very least, dislike her greatly.

Frowning, she observed the two as they slumbered—trying to make sense of the brief conversation they'd had when Chris had woken. She thought that the 'darkness' that her daughter spoke of might have been another word in the girl's vocabulary for 'nightmare', though she couldn't be certain. Chris, however, had seemed to understand whatever she was talking about right away. They obviously knew each other better than anyone else could even hope to, but she couldn't comprehend _how_ or _why_ her daughter was so close to the person who seemed to have it out for her and her sisters.

And… surprisingly enough, Phoebe couldn't muster up any sort of motherly urge to separate the two, as any other mother would when catching her daughter in bed with a man. Chris had his arms wrapped securely around the slender girl, one around her waist and another one buried in her hair. Phoenicia was cuddled up against him in the most contented manner, her face hidden in the crook of his shoulder and her own body practically sprawled atop of his as some sort of faux blanket.

Perhaps it was only because she could _feel_ the emotions in the room that ceased any reservations Phoebe may have had about them. She could sense nothing from either of them to suggest that they were romantically involved. What she felt from Phoenicia was a deep love, a love that Phoebe herself shared with her own siblings. And Chris, whose guard was down for once, allowing her to get a clear reading on his emotions, was full of sadness and frustration for the girl's condition, but even that was minor when compared to the overwhelming love and protectiveness he had for her.

Phoebe observed them for only a moment longer before backing away from the door, closing it gently as to not disturb the two, and retreating downstairs to the kitchen. When she entered she found that Leo and Paige had snatched up another one of the delicious looking homemade cookies upon the counter. According to the Elder, he had watched Chris make them. And while Leo assured them that he was certain Chris hadn't added any belladonna or anything else unsavory into the batter, Piper still refused to even try one. Phoebe on the other hand had no such qualms, and eagerly grabbed one as she sat down before they were all gone.

"Did you find out which room he's napping in?" Piper asked waspishly, glaring as she inspected the cabinets for anything that might have been placed wrongly when Chris had messed around in her kitchen.

"Yes," Phoebe answered with a mouthful of cookie, pausing only to swallow. "They're both in my room."

Piper closed the cabinet and quirked an eyebrow at her. "_Both_ of them?"

"Yes," she affirmed with a nod. "Both of them,"

"In the same bed?" Paige asked slyly.

"Yes," Phoebe said firmly, tossing her younger sister a glare. "Gutter, gutter, gutter…"

Piper eyed her strangely. "You're okay with that?"

"Yes," Phoebe repeated for what felt like the thousandth time. "Yes I am. They are both all comfy and cozy in my bed, wrapped around each other, both sleeping their afternoon away, blissfully unaware of the conversation we are currently having about them. No, they were _not_ in any way naked, nor was there anything sexual about the way he was holding her." The mere thought of _that_ made her winch. While she didn't feel very motherly, she still wasn't comfortable thinking about her future daughter's romantic life. "Could we pick another topic please?"

"… Do you have any more information about this power surge you had us working on?" Piper asked neutrally, graciously changing the topic, much to her younger sister's relief.

The Elder shook his head in answer. "No, we're just as lost about this as you are."

"Well, maybe if we knew _what_ exactly we're looking for…" Paige hinted.

Leo sighed deeply, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I know this is frustrating. But whatever this is, it's incredibly powerful. These surges of magical energy are usually tied to a strong demon when they surface from the underworld. The Elders haven't been able to pinpoint what it is or even where it is… because they're overwhelmed every time they try to find it. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that, whatever this thing is, it's everywhere and all at once too. Not just California, not even just the United States. I'm talking about _worldwide_. We've never felt anything like this before, not even the titans were this powerful… and to be honest, it has everyone _up there_ on edge."

"Could this thing possibly be using astral projection?" Phoebe asked, trying to come up with explanations.

"I honestly couldn't tell you Phoebe," Leo said. "The only thing we know, and even this is just a theory… is that it originated here in San Francisco. When this energy just surfaced, this is where it was strongest. And it's been steadily gaining more and more power by the minute. It overlapped the State within thirty minutes; imagine how powerful it must be to have already reached overseas."

"Ooh, that's bad," Paige whispered in a strained voice, her eyes wide.

"What could possibly be that powerful?" Phoebe asked worriedly.

"More importantly," Piper mused. "Is it good… or is it evil?"

Unbeknownst to the four, in the shadows of the room, lurking just outside of the conservatory, a lone figure shook his head at all their mindless speculation. "The real question," he muttered to himself, turning away from the kitchen to walk back out the way he came. "Is how you all could be so damn dense?" He looked around curiously, absently taking notice of how different everything seemed now compared to what it would be in a few short years. He couldn't really find it in him to care though. All things, in time, change eventually. At that thought he glanced back at the door to the kitchen, pondering how much they too _would_ change, before eventually going through the parlor to reach the stairs.

When he reached the second landing, he let his senses guide him to a certain room. He opened the door as quietly as he could, peeking inside before stepping in fully. He smiled as he spotted them. When was the last time he had seen either of them looking so peaceful, even when they slept? The thought made him sad that they hardly ever got a moment of peace. He crept closer to the bed, cautiously sitting down upon the edge. When neither stirred as the bed dipped in protest to his weight, his shoulders relaxed and he just sat there and observed them.

Chris had let his hair grow out some, he noticed, seeing past the layers of charms that hid his true appearance easily. It now reached past his ears, curling at the ends like it used to when he was a child. He felt a pang in his heart as he spotted the dark discoloration beneath the boy's eyes and the hollowness of his cheeks. Chris deserved far better than this. He sighed sadly, his concern growing as he noticed all the differences of how he remembered the young man to how he looked now. Tentatively, his hand rose and he reached over slowly to brush the strands of dark hair away from Chris's forehead.

Before his hand could even come in contact with the young man, something impossibly warm and strong gripped his still invisible wrist like a vice. Sea green eyes opened lethargically and peered around the dimly lit room. The hand tightened around his wrist when there was obviously nothing there, and he didn't even bother to try and yank it away. He watched as Chris narrowed his eyes at his invisible form, winching slightly as the heat of the young man's hand grew stronger while his eyes took on an amber hue.

"Show yourself."

The command was quiet, as to not wake the still slumbering girl beside him, but it held a venom that promised the intruder an intense pain if his demand wasn't met accordingly. And so, steeling himself for whatever reaction Chris would have, he released his hold on his power and allowed himself to be seen completely. Never mind the fact that he shouldn't have been caught to begin with. He watched with trepidation as shock settled over the boy's face.

Chris took in the intruder's appearance, his breath hitching when he recognized the achingly familiar figure. The man was noticeably larger than he was, filled out with strong muscles. He looked as young as he always did though, even with his hair was completely white, slicked back away from his face, and making the scar running down the man's face from his left eyebrow and all the way to his ear all too clear to see. It gave the man a harsher appearance. But his eyes… despite the harshness caused by years of struggle apparent in them… the eyes were the same. A deep sea green in color, so very much like his own, and shining brightly as they stared down at him.

"Dad…?"

A smile spread across his face and he nodded. "Yes, son, it's me."

"…Are you from the…" Chris trailed off hesitantly.

"Well," the Elder began dryly. "I'm certainly not from here," He spread out one arm with a flourish, the dark jacket he wore falling open and revealing several belts tied not only around his waist but over his chest as well. "Could you imagine the look on your mother's face if I suddenly showed up dressing in all black, carrying an endless supply of potion and throwing knives on me?" He dropped his arm with a smile, and it appeared to be all the confirmation Chris needed. He gently disentangled himself from Phoenicia and tugged on the still captive wrist and pulled the older man down to him. The embrace was awkward, but most definitely welcome.

"It worked…" Chris breathed out in awe.

"So it _was _your fault," Leo chuckled, a playful smile settling on his lips as he trapped his son in a tight embrace. Who knew the next time Chris would actually allow him to hold him like this once the shock wore off. "I'd wondered where my sudden knowledge of sword fighting came from. Or how I survived the attack when I remember being on my death bed after it happened.

Chris let out a choked laugh and pulled away. "Yeah," he said sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. "I kind of sent you to Valhalla. I suppose the time ripples have begun to take effect if you're alive now," he mused. "You probably will have two sets of memories until the paradox I've created is fixed and one of the timelines fades away. I do hope the process wasn't _too_ painful for you."

Leo gave him a humorless look. "Just wait until the ripples catch up with you," he mumbled with a hint of mock-annoyance. "You're part Elder too, and once the ripples work their way back through time to get to you, you'll have one hell of a headache for a few weeks. And you'll never know when they'll hit. _My_ ears are _still_ ringing from it."

Chris bit his lip to hold in his laugh. "Sorry, dad, I forgot that Elders aren't affected by changes in time the same way everything else is,"

"Yeah, yeah," Leo rolled his eyes, unable to keep the affectionate tone out of his voice. He was elated that his son hadn't reverted back to calling him by his given name already. Perhaps there was hope of salvaging their relationship. After all Chris had saved his life, hadn't he? Surely he must still care about him, even if just a little. "I've missed you, Chris," He smiled as his son gave him a shy, almost hopeful look. "Thank you for giving me another chance… especially since my past self seems to be a bit dimwitted." he admitted reluctantly.

Chris couldn't resist smirking at him. "_Just_ your past self?"

"Watch it, Christopher," Leo replied playfully.

Grinning widely, Chris maneuvered out of the bed without disturbing his twin, feeling better than he had in the longest time. For once everything seemed to be headed in the right direction, even if not in ways he expected. He had been fully prepared to continue on as he'd had, even if it hadn't been for the sudden appearance of his cousin. But now he had his father. His father was alive… because he had changed the future. If he could change one life, it opened the doorway to the possibility that yes—he _could_ save the lives of his brother and his cousins. And he could save the world from what it would become if left on its own. And if everything else went according to his wishes, his cousin would be more like herself within the next two or three days, and they could all work together to neutralize any threats to Wyatt with ease before moving on to the bigger picture.

"Come on," Chris said quietly, gesturing for the older man to follow him once he'd tucked Phoenicia back beneath the covers. He led the way to the stairs. "I think it might be best if I introduce you first, because they might mistake you for a… very bad impersonator." As they entered the dining room, adjacent to the kitchen, Chris licked his lips nervously. He prayed that his father knew he wanted to keep his identity secret—they hadn't exactly spoken about _why_ he was here yet, let alone sit down to compare stories so that, when interrogated, they wouldn't say the wrong thing. Chris had been more worried that one of the sisters would have walked in unexpectedly than if their stories matched when he'd suggested going to find everyone.

Steeling himself for whatever reactions they may have, Chris entered the kitchen, making sure his body shielded his father's despite the fact that, should Leo be blown up it would merely sting whereas if Chris were to be, he would be in dire need of healing afterwards. He cleared his throat to get their attention, masking his immediate grimace with an impassive look when all eyes turned to him. Chris shifted his weight from foot to foot.

"Um…"

Before he could say anything though, his father decided he didn't like the way that the younger and much more _alive_ version of his wife was holding her arms up, poised to use her destructive power even though Chris was in between them. He stepped around his son so he was the easier target, placing a placating hand on his son's thin shoulder, and gave them a better look at his features. Leo knew his appearance was… much more foreboding than his younger self. He was darker… more dangerous. And it reflected in both his apparel and in his eyes.

"…He's not a shapeshifter," Chris said clearly. "This is Leo… from my time."

The one dressed in golden robes stepped forward, eyeing the clearly dangerous man with distrust. "Are you sure?" the Elder asked suspiciously. His suspicion caused the other to raise a scarred eyebrow in question, eyes narrowed when it seemed that his counterpart wanted to grab Chris away from him. His hand tightened slightly on his son's shoulder impulsively, something akin to jealousy worming its way into his heart… for himself. It was a ridicules notion, even he knew that, but _this_ man had spent months with his son while he'd been otherwise… occupied.

"Yes Leo," Chris rolled his eyes in answer. "I'm positive." After a moment, he turned to his father, a smirk on his lips. "And you actually _wonder_ why I say you need to lighten up?" he quipped, earning himself a slight glare from both versions of the Elder. His smirk only grew. "Anyway—"

"Why are you here?" Leo demanded, frowning in distaste at the state of his apparently older self's clothes.

"I'm here because of Chris," the man answered easily enough, though without really answering. He wasn't entirely sure what his son's plans were, but if he knew his son half as well as he thought he did than Chris was probably being evasive and only telling them the bare minimum. And disrupting his son's mission wasn't why he was here.

"But _why_?" the other persisted.

He shrugged. "Because,"

Leo glared at him. "Quit avoiding the question,"

"Ask a better one."

"This is confusing…" Paige whispered to her sisters, though her voice carried. Everyone looked at her, and she bristled defensively. "What? I'm just saying! They look the same…" She trailed off, eyeing the time traveler oddly. "Well… for the most part. And I keep thinking of them both as Leo and it's giving me a headache."

"Then don't think of me as Leo," the Elder suggested calmly, ignoring the way his younger self fumed silently at his clear avoidance. "We may share souls, but I'm much older and more experienced than he is. And as for our physical appearance, you couldn't possibly mistake him for me because not only are we dressed completely differently, but my hair his white and his is still golden. And he doesn't have any of my scars, especially not these," He gestured at his own face.

"Yeah but…" Paige frowned. "We can't think of you _both_ as _Leo_,"

"Then don't," Chris said, merely repeating his father's words. "Only think of Leo… that is to say, our Leo, as… well, Leo. Think of the future Leo as…" He eyed his father, wondering if he could get away with giving him some ridicules name just for the fun of it. _Or perhaps…_ Chris smirked inwardly as a devious thought came to mind. "Sun God," The hand tightened on his shoulder compulsively and his father stared at him for the longest time while the sisters, Paige in particular, seemed to be trying not to laugh at the flabbergasted expression on the man's face. Only the younger Elder seemed to be sympathetic, though that was probably only because he could be considered a target for humiliation for that abhorrent nickname as well.

"Where did you hear about that?" he choked out.

Chris bit his lip to keep from laughing. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

The man scowled faintly. "Yes, Christopher, I really would!"

Smirking at his father's obvious ire, he only shook his head. "You'll have to ask Paige," he said, his face turning more serious once more. "We still need something to call you by."

"Leon will probably work just fine," the Elder suggested, his eye still twitching as he eyed Paige suspiciously.

"… Um…" she fidgeted. "Not much a difference, is it?"

"Well," Chris frowned thoughtfully. "We don't really have to worry about mixing them up physically, and their personalities are easy enough to differentiate. And technically, they _are_ the same person. So it doesn't really matter, does it?" Unable to come up with anything to dispute his logic, Paige only shrugged.

"So, _Leon_," Leo drawled, his eyes still showing his unease. "Why the hell are you here?"

The other Elder sighed, one hand rising to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Damn. He's a broken record…" he muttered, shaking his head, and causing Chris to smile outright. "I'm here to keep Chris from doing anything stupid, to watch out for him, and to ban him from demon hunting, potion making, scrying, spell writing, pretty much all magic for a while."

Chris's smile faded and he stared at his father in disbelief. "What?"

Leon sighed in disappointment as the young man pulled away, taking a step back from him, but he knew this was a necessary evil. Better for him to be the target than an innocent, or someone who couldn't heal themselves, in a manner of speaking. "You eat and rest until I say otherwise. Think of it as a temporary probation until I feel you're ready to become active again."

"I'm on _probation_?" he repeated, his mouth hanging open slightly.

"Yes, Christopher," the Elder said firmly. "You are. Until I say otherwise,"

Mouth snapping closed with an audible _click_, Chris narrowed his eyes with anger. "You can't tell me what to do!"

"Actually, I can," Leon said coolly, returning the look full force. "Besides the fact that I outrank you in the whitelighter hierarchy, you are still a minor until next October. As such, I am your guardian until then."

"I…" Chris growled, his control slipping slightly. He could feel his blood rush like lava in his angered state and took just a moment to collect himself. "You can't do that."

"I just did,"

"I'm not a minor," Chris hissed at him. "Not in our time. The legal age is fifteen."

"We're not in our time, Christopher," Leon reminded him casually. His flinch when a blast of heat that radiated off of Chris as he stepped close, getting in his face, went unnoticed by everyone. "Here, the legal age is eighteen."

"You forget the government emancipates their precious weapons," Chris growled deep in his throat, his eyes turning an amber completely, the band of silver from his twin only adding to the effect of making his eyes seem more impressive, practically glowing with power. He clenched his fists by his side. "I'm an adult. I can make my own decisions, and you have no authority over me."

"You're a child," Leon countered, his voice remaining calm, though beads of sweat had already begun to gather at his temples and his eyes watered from the sheer heat radiating from his son. "And when it comes to the safety and health of everyone around you, I trust you implicitly. You always look out for those you care about, and make sure all of their needs are cared for." Chris blinked at him in confusion, his eyes losing some of their fire. "However, when it comes yourself, you don't even take a moment to consider resting or even just eating. You forget simple things that keep you alive until you can barely stand up. You bottle your feelings up, keeping everything to yourself, until they're raging inside of you and have nowhere to go. It makes you weak Christopher. It makes you a liability."

A small proverbial light went off in Chris's head as he recalled a similar conversation with this particular Elder a long time ago. It had ended with him beating the ever loving shit out of his father. The man had baited him, called him weak and said that he couldn't take care of himself if he could barely lift a fork to his mouth, and if he couldn't take care of himself how could he be expected to take care of others. He'd done it just so Chris would release all of his pent up emotions… physically if necessary. And now, as he studied the older man, he was met with the realization that Leon had been purposely trying to make him upset. The man knew which buttons to push—take away his free will, his independence, calling him weak and a liability… and Chris knew he had been on the very edge of his patience. He was certain he'd been just one more comment away from snapping back like a rubber band, lashing out physically and magically just to cause any kind of pain that might rival even just slightly of what he felt inside of him.

Chris shook his head, his eyes returning back to their natural color as he took a step away from his father. He breathed deeply, inhaling through his nose and exhaling with a sigh. A gentle hand settled on his shoulder, and he didn't even have to glace back to know that his twin had felt his upsetting emotions and had come to his aid. He could already feel the forced _calm_ his twin was feeding him through their bond. He looked back up at the Elder, noting the weary look and the beads of sweat on his face.

"You really need to quit doing that," Chris sighed jadedly. "It's bad for your health, not to mention mine. I think I'm going to have an ulcer before I ever make it to twenty. And I think I already have high blood pressure, so you're not helping in the least."

Leon frowned slightly, shaking his head. "Come on Chris. You need to release some of your anger before your powers do it for you. I'm offering an outlet here, son."

Chris shot him a sharp look at the word 'son' but only scoffed. "I'm not emotionally repressed," he said. "I won't explode if I get angry. I have more control now than I ever did before."

"Even after your powers have been bound for so long?" Leon questioned. "Your powers are tied to your emotions Chris, they even _effect_ your emotions. They make you angrier, more passionate about things than you would have been naturally. If your emotions become too much for you to handle…"

"A tightly wound thread will snap from the tension placed upon it," Phoenicia added softly, standing contently beside her cousin. "And yet when you combine more than one thread together they will sustain against it, resist, and prevail. We were two threads, and now we have rejoined to become a rope. Do not trust so easily your previous experiences. The world is on the edge of a knife and nothing is certain." She turned away from the others and looked at Chris calmly, her voice echoing in his mind as her lips remained still.

"_The path to hell is paved with good intentions,_" she told him."_He, who is of heaven, will forsake his vows to uphold the old laws and with his good intentions he shall bring forth the Lord of Darkness with the help of those of hell. Hope yet remains, the man of heaven and the men of hell can be stopped when the Phoenix shines and takes what is his by birthright. The world will bask in the Phoenix's sunlight and there shall never be an everlasting night_."

Chris had to remind himself to breathe as he imprinted her words to his memory, his head already in overdrive trying to work through the meanings. He could recognize a prophecy, and this one would probably take him a while to decipher. But he understood the meaning behind it, to an extent. A man of heaven—there were so many possibilities to choose from… spirits, whitelighters, the angels of fate, angels of death, even Elders. How was he supposed to figure out which?—would bring forth the Lord of Darkness, or rather, they would fracture Wyatt's soul. This person would be working with those of hell… soulless, cruel beings who lived not in the underworld but in _hell _were extremely difficult to harm, let alone kill. But they could be stopped when the Phoenix shines? Who was the Phoenix…? Could it have been Bianca? No, just because she was a phoenix demon didn't mean she was _the Phoenix_… besides, Phoenicia had said 'his' not 'hers' when describing the Phoenix…

"_Heartache doesn't suit you_," Phoenicia whispered through their bond, and he flinched when he felt her finger poke his side in an attempt to distract him. "_Do not grieve, for a phoenix demon cannot die by from being impaled, or even by beheading. The one who whispers sweet promises she cannot keep still remains_."

Chris snapped his eyes to her, hope alit in them. "_Bianca's alive?_"

"_Unfortunately_," the young woman said in affirmation. Before Chris could scold her for being so sullen and cruel about something that made him feel so relieved and happy, another voice broke through their conversation.

"You're not even listening, are you?" Leon asked with mild irritation, his suspicion confirmed when both his son and his niece turned to look at him unsurely. "Damn it! Will you two _stop that_! I hated it when you were younger… and you know what? I _still_ hate it. Speak out loud, with words! Not in your heads where only you two can hear!" He huffed irritably, shaking his head. "Whatever deity decided to give you telepathy should be damned straight to hell,"

"Um…" Chris cocked his head in confusion. He shared a look with Phoenicia, unsure how to respond, and she sent a suggestion through their bond. Nodding his head in agreement to her plan, he looked back at Leon, who was glaring at the two of them. "We'll just leave you guys alone to talk for a bit." Chris said as he took hold of Phoenicia's hand. "No details, the last thing we need is _another_ paradox."

"I know the rules of time travel Chris," Leon frowned sourly. "Future consequences. But don't think we're done with this conversation. You—"

"So you're the culprit!" Paige exclaimed with an accusing finger, startling the man in the perfect distraction for Chris and Phoenicia to get away. They dissolved into a large column of blue and white orbs, reappearing atop the Bridge, and leaving Leon to the mercy of three none too pleased witches.

"Frustrated," Phoenicia said serenely.

"I know Mia," he said sadly. "It'll get better soon, though. I promise."

The young woman tilted her head in his direction. "Not me. You are frustrated."

Chris sighed. "Maybe a little," he conceded. "It's a bit harder to control myself, just as Leon said. But he had no right to bait me into attacking him! And for my own good, apparently," Chris mocked, crossing his arms over his chest in anger. "Who does he think he is?"

"… Your father,"

Chris looked at her, stricken by her bluntness. He bowed his head. "Yeah," he agreed softly. "I know. He was just trying to help."

"He just did it the wrong way." she said.

"Yeah," Chris snorted. "He's never been good with tact."

"You won't." Phoenicia told him, reading his insecurities. "You won't lose yourself, Chris. Though strong, they are not in control. You can contain your powers, just as you control your emotions. You are a dam, and your magic the water. You control the flow, retrain it, not the other way around."

"… If they're so strong," he mused curiously. "Why are they so weak?"

"Disused muscles are weak until they have been exercised properly,"

"Right," Chris agreed. "So they'll be as strong as they were if I use them enough?"

Phoenicia nodded. "Yes."

Chris sat down, his legs hanging over the edge as she moved to sit beside him. "Are you sure dad isn't right? I'm not going to cause volcanologists to think the world is going to end in a great flood of lava, am I?"

"If the dam is released the force of the water will flood," she answered. "It must be drained slowly to prevent damage." Chris became slightly weary as she smirked, the twist of her lips now reminiscent of when she was younger. "If not, the world will explode and we'll be the only survivors."

Chris shook his head with a wry grin. "We'll rule the word, then?"

Phoenicia nodded. "Conquerors of all."

"But what would we do with all of the free time?" he pouted with mock-disappointment. "There would be no demons to hunt."

"We must ensure the survival of the human race," the girl said with a strange glint in her eyes.

Chris stared at her in bemusement. "Of course. And how would we do that?"

"… By having hot monkey sex?"

Chris glared at her, choking on his own saliva at the innocent tone belying her crude words. "That is just _so_ wrong on _so_ many different levels, and I'm not even going to bother to respond to it." She merely continued to smirk at him. "It wasn't funny!" he insisted. At his attempt to sound stern, which failed horribly do to the sheer horror in his voice, she smiled wholeheartedly at him. He tried to maintain his glare, but he couldn't help but laugh. "You have a dirty mind," he muttered with exasperation.

Phoenicia nodded. "I know," she said proudly. "Several, in fact. The world is full of them."

"Couldn't you avoid peeking into the perverted ones?" Chris pleaded with her. "For my sanity?"

"I suppose," she agreed. "I think two Halliwell Hazards are enough,"

"Yeah," Chris smiled sadly, knowing she was talking about his brother and herself. "Someone has to be left to fix you guys."

Several miles away, back at the manor, things had been awkward since the departure of the other two time travelers, and Leon had been doing his utmost best at answering all of their questions with careful evasion. There were just some things they weren't meant to know, because as much as the future had already changed if they were to know certain things they could inadvertently cause even more damage to the timeline and it seemed as if they couldn't understand that. The sisters were upset with his clear avoidance of certain topics, and for some reason his younger self seemed to hate him, but eventually their questions wavered into an uncomfortable silence.

Leon cleared his throat awkwardly. "You all… look well." he said lamely. He winched as soon as the words left his mouth—that didn't even deserve a response. "So… how long has Chris been here exactly?"

Paige shrugged. "I don't know. Five or six months, I think."

"How do you know Chris, Leo?" Piper asked, her eyes pinned on him.

"Leon," he absently corrected, is body tensing and his eyes sharpening. "I'm an Elder, one of very few in existance anymore." the man answered her softly, ignoring the shock on his younger half's face. "As such, I've made it a point to know every single person who possesses even the slightest hint of whitelighter blood in his or her veins." He looked down in sadness momentarily. "Unfortunately, there aren't that many to keep track of. I was also… close… to his father," _Far closer than you can imagine_, he thought warily.

"Who _is_ his father?" Leo asked his older half curiously.

Leon eyed his past counterpart and shook his head. "I can't tell you."

"Why not?" Piper demanded. "Why keep us in the dark?"

"You don't know the laws of time travel, Piper," he told her, his voice remaining even.

"I don't care," Piper hissed back, stepping closer and getting into his face. Her own face was flushed red, her brown eyes angry. "Screw the laws! I've had it up to here with that bastard and now even you won't—" She couldn't even finish her angry rant before the future version of her husband had gripped her arms painfully tight, a look on his face that reminded her that this was not the man she knew. None of them had ever seen Leo look at anyone, not even demons or warlocks, the way he was currently staring at her. His sea green eyes were burning with pure hate, and it was directed at her. Piper's heart pounded in her chest as the words died from her lips.

The tight grip on her arms released as he obviously attempted to cool his anger, taking a half step back, his fists clenched tightly at his sides as barely noticeable sparks of energy gathered at his fingertips. "Never… call him that again." Leon ordered tightly, eyes pinning her in place even if all of her instincts were screaming to move away. He didn't care if she was scared of him now.

Wife or not, Chris was _his son_ and he didn't deserve to be called cruel names. She hadn't the _right_ to speak about him like that. And Leon wasn't about to let her bad mouth an innocent boy, particularly _this_ innocent boy, just to make herself feel better about the situation. Chris's personal feelings had been neglected by all of them for too long already and Leon wasn't ever going to make that mistake again. Chris deserved better.

Leon had to take several calming breaths before he felt the last of his anger dissipate, and he adverted his eyes from their slightly cowering forms once he collected himself. A jingle penetrated his thoughts, like soft bells going off inside of his head, and he glanced up at the ceiling suspiciously. A quick glance at his younger self confirmed that he too had heard it. It was a summons, and clearly it wasn't meant for him but for the younger man.

"I have to go," Leo announced quietly. "The Elders are calling."

"I'll go with you." Leon's voice left no room for argument, and even though the other looked as if he wanted to protest he wisely kept his mouth shut. After bidding the sisters farewell, the two were engulfed by a rush of blue orbs and disappeared completely soon after.

Piper made it her mission to cook dinner as a distraction once they were gone, and Paige decided to go upstairs to her room quietly. Phoebe, however, was feeling the weight of everything, amplified by her new powers, and wasn't exactly sure how to process it properly. She retreated into the empty conservatory and sunk into her favorite chair while she booted up her laptop. She wasn't even paying attention to the device really, but it gave her the pretence she was busy writing her column and new she'd have some peace for a while.

Everything was so confusing, and some of the emotions weren't her own so it took a while for her to separate and analyze them. She had a daughter who seemed to hate her. Leo, the man who had always been a source of stability for them all, had changed drastically in the future. When he had settled that dangerous look on her sister, all of his emotions had bombarded her and she had nearly stumbled back from the force of them. _Anger,_ _protectiveness_, _resentment, guilt, _even_ love…_ it wasn't so much the emotions that confused her. It was the fact that every single one of them shared a common factor.

They were all somehow connected to Chris.

If Leon had really been a friend of the young man's father, than it would explain why he'd become upset when Piper called him a bastard and it would even justify some of his emotions. But his reaction to it had been so incredibly strong and severe that she wasn't sure how to interpret it. And his anger wasn't directed solely at her older sister either, but at himself as well. Phoebe couldn't understand it, just as she couldn't understand why everyone who came from the future seemed so tightlipped about it, even if there were laws about time travel. She really needed to find out what those laws were, and if there were any loopholes in them that could be taken advantage of.

**End  
Chapter**

And yet another guest from the future has arrived. I know that when too many time travelers enter the picture to come aid Chris, it sometimes starts to get corny, and Leon will not be the last time traveler to come to the past, but I promise that they all will have a much more important role than just standing around to answer questions… eventually :) On that note, a few people have mentioned to me that, though they love the story, they're not sure about the lack of action within it.

I believe in establishing the characters first, making them and their emotions the forefront of everything, and then I take it a few steps further. I think that when writers rush into the battle scenes without making you care about the characters, it makes you less caring to whether or not they win or lose, are injured or killed, etc… For instance, there have been thousands of guest stars on the show, right? But only the reoccurring characters, the ones we got to know, made an impact when something happened to them—Andy, Prue, Cole… Chris. I just think that if you become involved in the lives of the characters, that you care about the outcome of the battle more than the battle itself, and it makes for a better story. Just my opinion. For those of you who are just itching for some action scenes—Chris is extremely protective of Phoenicia… and he is currently emotionally unstable. Not a very good combination for anyone who should threaten her wellbeing…

Until next week,

Lynx


	7. The Hart

**Finding Yourself  
The Hart**

**Tuesday, November 25****th****, 2003  
**Chris narrowed his eyes as he carefully extracted a small sample of the potion with an eyedropper and placed it into a small vial before he placed a cork stopper in it. The potion was almost ready, or at least, it was in the final phase. Once he finished adding the last of the revisions to it, it would have to sit overnight to finish incorporating everything. But he was having a bit of difficulty with the attunement process, even though Phoenicia's blood had been the base of the potion to begin with. He couldn't understand why it wasn't responding. The potion should be black and oily, smelling strongly like the burning henbane seeds because that was how the original potion was and he hadn't really changed much except add a few ingredients—not to mention the recipe called for a large amount of the seeds and when they were burned they were extremely potent.

And yet for some unfathomable reason the potion was a bleak gray color and smelled faintly of the coriander and nutmeg he added an hour ago. It wasn't a complete and utter failure, but it wasn't a success either. Everything he had planned on doing was nearly finished, and it was the perfect combination of a modified _oraculum stabilitas_ and a healing draught that healed internal injuries—if it worked as he planned, his modifications not only would help her for hours at a time, but it would actually _repair_ some of the physical damage from the surgeries.

There had to be something he was missing though, because no matter how many times he tested it, it was only potent enough to actually work for more than five hours at the most. And she shouldn't take it more than once a day, because some of the ingredients, the nightshade in particular, were of the lethal variety if you ingest too much of it and as much as he wanted his cousin sane, he wasn't going to further risk her health. And if he didn't figure out how to fix this dilemma by sometime tomorrow morning, then he wouldn't be able to because by then the potion would have completed its final stage and adding anything else to it could be poisonous.

Inspecting the small sample he gathered, Chris wondered if he could just take it to an apothecary or some sort of potions expert. Surely they would know how to fix this, and he had written down every step and had an entire notebook of notes he'd taken while making the potion. And he still needed to go get some of the final ingredients that needed to be added sometime tonight, so it would be the perfect time. Only, Chris wasn't sure he wanted to go to that creepy old man again, especially since the old geezer had been working with Leo the entire time. Besides, that man's specialty was for more of the under the table potions, such as the kind to block an empathy because the unsavory ingredients made it illegal to make.

Making sure everything was set to be left alone for a few hours; Chris orbed back to the manor, pleased to find that only Piper and Phoenicia were home, the former upstairs somewhere. Perfect. He quietly made his way to the conservatory, spying what he wanted sitting innocently upon the coffee table. Being as inconspicuous as possible, and checking once again to make sure his mother was still upstairs, he grabbed Phoebe's laptop and began the process turning it on. Grinning to himself as it booted up, he opened an internet web browser and typed in a search for apothecaries within the city. Surprisingly there were many of them, and Chris found one that seemed like it might be respectable downtown.

Meanwhile in a city of its own beyond the clouds, in the council hall of the Elders, Leon stared back challengingly at his fellow brethren, his eyes hard and cold as they stood apart from himself and his younger half, speaking in quiet chirps and clicks. He hadn't bothered to change into formal robes after being called here, and had caused quite the commotion when a fresh whitelighter had mistaken him for a demon due to his dark apparel. He thought it was humorous more than anything though, especially when a rush of lightning was thrown at him and managed to hit a statue of Apos—the highest ranking Elder of this time, who Leon knew thought too highly of himself—and caused it's destruction.

Leon couldn't help but notice that his younger counter part hadn't bothered to change into the formal dress either, seemingly more comfortable in his jeans and shirt. A slight, pleased smile ghosted his lips at this—at least his younger self wasn't the complete toady he'd been once upon a time. It seemed that the battle training he'd received had more of an impact on his personality than he'd first thought.

The council of Elders, seemingly done conversing amongst themselves approached the dais where several seats sat. Like the rest of this city, the chairs had been formed out of the clouds, though they were just as solid as the floors, and where arranged in such a way that reminded him of a stadium, Apos' being the in the center and elevated the most while the others circled the rest of the room. He'd always hated this room—it made it seem like everyone was looking down on you. One of said seats happened to be empty, and Leon realized it was probably reserved for his younger half, but as Leo was more or less simply observing the proceedings he remained standing by Leon's side as the others all took their seats.

"You say you are only one of six Elders in your time," Apos asked levelly, obviously still upset that his statue had been demolished by, not only himself but almost all the Elders. "How is this possible? For every one hundred whitelighters, there must at least be one Elder to govern them."

"… There are only twenty-four whitelighters in the future." Leon told them impassively, though his heart clenched painfully as he spoke the words. There was silence at his words, and he gave them all a moment to wrap their minds around it before confirming their suspicions. "The rest are all dead."

"How can this be?" another Elder spoke up.

Leon shook his head. "I am not at liberty to discuss it."

One whom he recognized as Joed, an Elder who had upon many occasions tried to have his soul recycled, leveled a dangerous look on him. "This is not a request,"

"I was aware," Leon said with one eyebrow raised, completely nonplused by the other man's ire. "But you have no authority over me. I'm from another time and you do not know the situation. You're only entitled to what I decide is prudent for you to know. And I have given you what I intended to. There are only six Elders, and twenty-four whitelighters in my time. Anything else I give you will be at my own digression."

Clearly the others weren't happy with him for it.

A younger Elder, Kevin, leaned forward in his seat. "But surely, even if… if the others did die, there are thousands of mortals who can become whitelighters!"

"… Only mortals who perform acts of kindness, who are altruistic and compassionate, can become whitelighters upon their death," Leon said firmly, his heart going out to the boy who had become an Elder much too soon in life. He remembered Kevin, whom he'd met when he was still mortal and seeking the aid of his wife and his sister-in-laws. "There are very few who are kind enough in the future to even be considered to become a whitelighter, and those who are pretend not to be so they won't draw attention and die prematurely."

A polite cough drew Leon's eyes to the tall, dark skinned man, causing his emotionless façade to dissolve momentarily. "Zola," he greeted the older man warmly, before his face became closed off once more. This man had been his mentor from the moment he'd become an Elder to the time of his own death. And though he couldn't be certain that his younger self thought of Zola as a mentor as well, the memories of his own life were enough to permanently endear the older man to him.

"Leo," Zola replied just as warmly. "Could you possibly explain to us why you have come here? I was under the impression that whatever mission you assigned to Chris Perry to come here for was already fulfilled. Have you come to retrieve him?"

Leon internally debated with himself, before finally deciding that in order to ensure his son's success, he'd have to be more forthcoming otherwise they might eventually run into trouble with the Elders. He sighed to himself, trying to get the wording right in his head before he spoke.

"As you know, Chris came here on a mission," he said calmly. "However I won't lie to you and say that he did this with the authorization of the Elders, because he didn't." Leon coolly ignored the gasps of outrage among the council, his steady glare quieting them promptly. "The credit for this brilliant plan lies in the hands of a seventeen year old half-breed with only four years of any real magical experience." His voice had a tilt of not only pride but amusement for the stunt his son had pulled. "He hasn't informed me of any real mission. But he stopped the titans months in advanced from what I do know. He prevented many countless deaths. And whatever mission he's assigned himself will doubtlessly prevent more unnecessary deaths."

"Despite his good intentions," Apos stated coldly. "He had still broken many of our laws."

"I agree," Joed said firmly. "I motion for a review of the whitelighter Chris Perry."

Apos nodded his agreement. "I second,"

"Motion passed. Chris Perry will be summoned here after this meeting is over and we will discuss his crimes," Joed said, almost gleefully. "And his punishment for said crimes, with the possibility of having his soul recycled."

Leon was dismayed to find that not only a majority of the Elders in the hall seemed to agree with this but they actually looked _pleased_ by it. He wasn't sure what Chris could have possibly done to warrant such a reaction, but he didn't like it in the least. Green eyes hardening like finely chiseled stone and his shoulder's squaring, Leon decided it was high time they recognized him for who he was.

"I'm afraid I cannot allow you to do anything to disrupt his mission," Leon told them, his voice containing a hint of finality in it as he gazed around the room. "I hereby formally give my express permission for Christopher Perry to continue on as he sees fit, without any interference from this council or anyone under its jurisdiction." The angered and disbelieving reactions to his words were expected but they were still disappointing.

Joed stood up in his anger. "Now see here!" he said loudly.

"As I said," Leon interrupted sternly. "You have no authority over me." He narrowed his eyes at Joed and released the cloaking spell upon his being, causing his skin to glow white momentarily and his powers to be felt by all in the hall. "_Sit down,_" Joed did so, unable to disobey, and everyone else in the room began to realize the full extent of just who he was. "As the _High Elder_," Silence. Dead silence, no one breathed a word, and though he expected this reaction as well, their open mouthed shock was much more pleasing. "I hereby give Christopher Perry a full pardon for any crimes he has or has not committed in this time and the next. If anyone, and I mean _anyone_," He eyed Joed and Apos significantly longer than the others. "Attempts to interfere with his mission, whatever it may be, you'll find yourselves recycled faster than you can say your last words." Without bothering to wait around for their reactions once the shock faded, he took hold of his younger counterpart's arm. "Meeting adjourned."

They were both engulfed with blue and white lights, the only sound in the room being everyone's heaving breathing as they digested everything and the soft bell sound of Leon and Leo's departure. They rematerialized atop the Golden Gate Bridge, away from people because Leon figured that his younger half would need a moment or two to realize who he would become in a few years time. As he predicted, Leo collapsed backwards, leaning on a suspension wire for support as he stared out over the bay, just as Leon could remember doing when he first discovered what he was.

When he was composed enough, he turned to Leon and opened and closed his mouth several times. "You… I… we… _High Elder?!_" he choked out finally.

Leon nodded unconcernedly. "Yes."

"But…" Leo floundered. "There's only one High Elder per millennia!"

"Your point being?"

"… How in the hell did I get turned into a god?'

Leon chuckled. "Trust me, I'm no god," he said with a roll of his eyes. "Being High Elder gives me an intense increase of power, I'll give you that much, and much more responsibility. Not to mention, I get to order the other Elders around for a change… but I know quite a few people who could probably kick my ass."

Leo frowned, swallowing thickly. "So it's you then, isn't it? The power surge?"

With a decisive snort, Leon shook his head negatively. "I'm powerful, but not _that_ powerful."

There was something in the tone that Leo recognized. "What are you _not_ telling me?"

"A lot," Leon answered honestly. "And no, I don't plan on enlightening you any time soon. You know what you need to, any anything else you'll just have to learn on your own."

He scowled. "You know, keeping secrets is why Chris isn't trusted by the girls,"

A dark look entered Leon's eyes, letting the other man know he was headed for a dangerous topic. "You need to have a talk with them, Piper especially. They need to learn to accept Chris."

"I can try," Leo agreed. "I've been trying, actually. But I doubt Piper will ever learn to accept him because she resents him too much."

"For her sake," the other man muttered darkly. "She should at least try."

Leo wasn't sure what he meant by 'her sake', and Leon wasn't about to elaborate. "I'll talk to her," he promised. "But I'll warn you now that it probably won't do anything. She doesn't listen to me much anymore."

"And why's that?"

"She's still mad that I'm refusing to sign the divorce papers,"

Leon heard the words in his head but they could have been gibberish for all he could understand them. "Excuse me?" he said incomprehensively. "What divorce papers?"

"Piper petitioned for a divorce," Leo said in a strained voice.

"Div…" the older man choked on the word. "A divorce? A divorce…! But _why_?"

"Because I became an Elder," the younger said slowly.

"But…" Leon couldn't say much of anything, and Leo had never seen his future counterpart so incoherent. "It's 2003 though… right?" Leon felt panic engulf him when the other nodded. This wasn't right, because if they were already getting a divorce and it was still 2003 then that would mean… "No! No, you're not supposed to be an Elder until February! What the hell did you do?" he asked accusingly, advancing upon his younger half. "How are you an Elder already?"

Leo couldn't even back up without taking a dive off of the bridge. "I…" he hesitated. "I turned the girls into gods when the titans attacked,"

"Why?" Leon bit out with force, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

"… Because Chris said it had to be done."

For a moment the world around Leon seemed to expand and collapse into itself within a millisecond as the words registered. He couldn't breathe. Chris… Chris had turned him into an Elder at least a few months in advance. Why would he do that? Other than the fact that Chris was so untrusting that he might not know how to approach the other Elders, why would he have done it? Didn't he realize how dangerous it would be? He knew what happened to he and Piper after he'd become an Elder. Chris had to have known he was putting his very existence in jeopardy. But… Chris also wouldn't have cared about his own life as long as it meant someone else would be saved. His son had absolutely no regard for his own life. He thought himself to be expendable… that he wasn't worth anything.

"Chris," Leon called out softly, the desperation in his voice confusing the other man who was now standing there forgotten. "Chris, come here." He began to get anxious when his son didn't appear, awful and horrifying scenarios flashing before his eyes—Chris, unable to respond because he had simply faded away being the most prominent—and he looked to the sky urgently. "Christopher Perry Halliwell, I swear if you don't get over here within the next two seconds I'll—" He had never threatened Chris before. Not once. He had yelled at him, baited him into anger, placed him on probation, but he had not threatened him. Apparently the fact that he was now resorting to something so abnormal had gotten the young man's attention.

Leon swallowed thickly as the lights of orbing danced in front of him. Before Chris could even finish materializing completely, Leon had surged forward and grasped him by the shoulders tightly. Trying to affirm that he was real to the touch, warm and _there_, and not simply a figment of his imagination. "You stupid, stupid boy," he whispered harshly, more out of fear than out of anger. "Do you realize what you've done?"

"W-what—?"

"It's suicide, Chris!" Leon said, anguished. "Why did you do turn me into an Elder? Why?"

Chris stilled, realization washing over his face, and the words on his lips died. The pain in his father's voice made him falter, and he wasn't sure how to respond to it. "I… I had to," he replied hesitantly. "You were the only one I knew… and the only way to become their whitelighter was to get rid of you, and I didn't want to hurt you so I had to find another way… and then you threatened to send me back, so I made a deal with the valkyries, both to get you out of the way… and to train you so you wouldn't die…" Chris bit his lip, unsure what else he could say. "I… I'm sorry."

Leon shook his head but didn't say anything in response to the unneeded apology. Instead he simply wrapped his arms around his son's thin frame and pulled him as close as physically possible, burying his face into the chocolate brown hair while Chris just stood idle in his embrace.

"I won't let you die," the Elder said resolutely. "I've already lost one son. I refuse to lose another."

"… You haven't lost Wyatt," Chris told him softly, his old insecurities rearing their ugly head. He knew that if his brother hadn't decided he wanted to rule the world that Leo wouldn't have looked twice at him… "He's still there… and I have some good leads to follow. I'll get him back."

Leon growled deep in his chest, pulling away enough so he could look his son in the eye. "Saving Wyatt doesn't save _you_."

Chris turned his head to the side. "I don't matter," he muttered dully.

Arms tightening until he was sure his son would need to breathe at some point, Leon finally ended the embrace, taking his son's chin between his fingers and settling him with a fierce expression. "You _do_ matter, Chris. You matter. Don't let anyone, even your mother, tell you otherwise. You're so brave Chris, so smart and powerful and compassionate. I could never tell you how proud I am for everything you've accomplished, and I know it's too late for me to ask for forgiveness… but please don't do this to me Chris… don't take anymore unnecessary risks, don't pull any life threatening stunts… don't make me lose you completely."

Chris stared at him silently before bowing his head. "Yes sir," he whispered, and at his compliance the only thing Leon could do was pull his son closer for another bone crushing embrace, as if he were afraid Chris would disappear on the spot if he released him. And in all actuality, there was an incredibly large possibility that he might. There was no guarantee that Chris would be born because he had already messed with the timeline. He could simply fade away, out of existence and memory…

The mere thought made Leon's heart pound frantically in his chest.

It was a long moment later that Leon released his hold on the younger man, and he did so with great reluctance and only because his son had gone completely ridged in his arms. Leon pulled back, and, turning his head slightly, followed Chris's gaze over his shoulder to the other man, who had remained forgotten in his silence throughout the entire conversation. His eyes were wide in a daze, his mouth slightly agape and if it weren't for the panic currently coursing through Chris he would have found that look comical. Instead, the young man swallowed thickly and searched his pockets for the small supply of memory dust he carried with him.

"You…" Leo whispered numbly, his throat constricting. He'd had his suspicions. Even before Phoenicia arrived, he'd been paying more attention to the boy, and he had considered the possibility before even though only briefly. But he'd always dismissed the notion based on things that Chris had said about how his father never cared about their family, because to Leo his family was the most important thing in his life. "You're my son."

Chris flinched at his words—because they were a statement, not a question—but then smirked in triumph as he extracted a small pouch full of the golden dust. "Yes!" he grinned, opening the drawstring and taking a pinch between his fingers. He watched as his intended target took a half step back at the sight of the familiar shimmering dust but Chris threw the small amount at his face before the Elder had a chance to do anything about it. "My name is Chris Perry. I'm a half witch, half whitelighter and I'm from the future. I am _not_ your son." He was anxious as he watched Leo sway in place, his face completely void of any emotion or thought.

Leon sighed and shook his head. "You didn't have to do that, son,"

Chris rounded, glaring at him. "Don't call me _that_!" he hissed, glancing nervously at Leo to make sure he was still out of it from the effects. "He could snap out of the trance any second, and I'd rather not have to waste what little dust I have just to keep my identity a secret."

"You shouldn't have kept it a secret to begin with, Christopher," Leon scowled at his son, a look that Chris returned with the same amount of frustration. "You're so stubborn. Why do you have to make things difficult for yourself? Don't you realize how much easier it would be for you if they knew?"

"… I don't care,"

"Why?"

"Because it shouldn't matter,"

Leon sighed deeply, sadness replacing his frustration. "They would love you even without knowing who you are if you'd stop being so distant and evasive with them." His son only turned his head away. "Chris…"

A sudden cough startled both of them, and they glanced at the other man. "How did we get up here?" Leo asked them, no small amount of confusion etched upon his face. "_Why_ are we up here? I… weren't we going to meet with the Elders?" Chris rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his dark hair, a small relieved sigh working its way passed his lips—at least his secret was safe enough for now.

"We already met with the Elders," Leon told him softly. "The meeting went okay, and we only stopped here to speak with Chris to tell him that he now has the support of the entire council to continue on with whatever he feels is necessary and to ignore any and all direction that anyone decides to give him. With the exception of myself, of course,"

Chris stared at his father with surprise written across his face. He opened his mouth a few times, trying to find a way to express his gratitude through words, but he couldn't think of anything that could due so properly. In the end he finally settled for giving his father a smile and a nod before he dissolved into blue and white lights—after all, he finally had a decent apothecary to visit for the ingredients he needed.

When the younger man was gone, however, nothing could have prepared Leon for the punch to his jaw from his younger counterpart. He staggered back, looking up into furious sea green eyes, and couldn't move in his shock as Leo gripped him by the collar of his leather jacket and pushed him up against one of the metal beams roughly. The pain was enough to snap him out of his stupor and he grabbed onto Leo's wrists in an attempt to pry the younger man off of him, but it only served to further anger the other man. Leo growled low in his throat and jerked Leon forward before slamming him back again.

Slightly dizzy from the knock to the head, Leon had trouble forming words. "What… the hell?"

"I can't believe you let him do that!" Leo bit out angrily.

"Do… what?" he asked, perplexed.

"Don't play ignorant," the younger Elder scowled at the man, his tone as dark and dangerous as his eyes. "You're risking his life this way, keeping us in the dark! How could you just sit back and let him try to erase the knowledge that he practically committed suicide from the first moment I laid eyes on him? He's _my son_ too! How could you let him do this?"

Both of Leon's eyebrows rose past his hairline in his surprise. He was honestly and completely shocked that his younger half had somehow managed to circumvent the effects of the memory dust. Leo, obviously not pleased with his silence, pushed him again, repeating his last question with even more force.

"It happened too fast to stop it," he scowled. "If he doesn't want anyone to know who he is, then—"

"Then it's his business!" Leo agreed impatiently. "How could you let him come here before he was born? To split Piper and I up like this? Do you realize that she and I barely even talk anymore? He might not…"

Leon's heart clenched painfully at the reminder. "I was dead," he answered.

"I… what?"

"I was dead."

Leo frowned with realization. "The attack…"

Faltering at the whispered words, Leon nodded slightly. "Yes. There was an attack. It devastated us all, leaving only a few behind and all of them still fighting for their lives. I was lucky enough to have lived the attack, but my injuries were far too extensive and we only have a few healers, even among the whitelighters."

"I don't understand," Leo said quietly. "How are you alive and here now, if you were dead?"

Leon's eyes crinkled as he smiled, the look on his face making the scar more prominent. "Chris," he said gently, pride and love apparent in the way he said the name. "He sent _you_ to Valhalla. And I suppose when the time ripples reached me, I received partial memories from your training. Enough for me to fight back, and instead of dying," He gestured to the side of his face. "I got these."

Leo blinked at him. "Oh," he responded stupidly. "What are time ripples?"

"Just as they sound—ripples in time," Leon answered carefully, trying to remember the explanation he'd received on the matter. "… When you change something in the past, a lot of the time it seems as if it changes instantaneously here, right?" When his younger self nodded, he shook his head. "Wrong. It literally takes years for each new event to occur, so even though it seems instant it's really not—you change something in the past, and it's like a ripple. A small change will grow and grow. They work their way through time slowly. Normally when this happens, I would essentially know all that you know, I would be you to the core. But it's not working out that way, I've only had glimpses of your life, of the training that _you_ received and _I _didn't. I know of my time, I've lived through it even though this new future that you're all bringing about is different from mine. Chris didn't only create time ripples… he's been here for months. And every little thing he does, from brushing someone against the shoulder or catching their eye, he's creating more and more ripples, which have lead to a paradox. Two timelines, the one we're in now, creating as we speak, and the one we're from, coexisting side by side until one of them fades. And Chris… he's the deciding factor. If he succeeds in whatever he's doing, one of the timelines will fade… it's most likely to be the one we're from, but should he fail... it'll be like he was never here to begin with because this timeline won't even exist."

Leo took a deep breath, his head downcast. "I… I think I understand,"

"Chris could probably explain it better," Leon admitted. "Though I wouldn't ask him just yet. He still thinks the memory dust worked on you, so if you ask him he might attempt to erase your memories again."

"Yeah," he snorted. "Hey… if you received partial memories… did Chris too?"

Leon shrugged dismissively. "The way he explained it to me is that any new memories from our new lives will have to follow us here. That means they have to work their way through time to the point where we traveled here, and then they have to move backwards in time as well. Its… it's all very complicated. And I didn't understand half of the terms Chris used, but essentially it'll take weeks, months, even years to reach us. Could even be until we go back to our own time..."

"You sound proud of him."

"I am, more than he will ever realize," he said. "Chris… he's always been incredibly smart. Even when he was a child, Wyatt always seemed to look to Chris when he couldn't figure something out instead of the reverse. I think Wyatt put it in words the best—Chris is the brain, Wyatt is the brawn, and Phoenicia is the beauty. Those three," He shook his head wryly. "Probably the smartest and strongest kids I've ever known. And they're so mature for their ages it's insane. If I didn't know any better, I'd have said that they were older then they really are… and Chris, everyone always seems to underestimate him and they _really_ shouldn't. He's always understood things better than anyone I know. He can use magic like another limb… he's an exceptionally bright kid."

Leo smiled at him. "Sounds like I raised him good."

Instead of the reaction Leo expected, his counterpart blanched and adverted his eyes, staring out at the bay pensively. "I didn't raise Chris." he confessed despondently. Sensing the other man's confusion, he steeled himself and began to elaborate. "Wyatt raised him… I didn't even know he existed until he was six years old."

"… How is that possible?"

"Chris was the result of me and Piper's last night together," Leon explained quietly. "I had just become an Elder, and was told that I couldn't come down here unless directed to… but I couldn't just leave. It was our goodbye, something we both needed. When I left, I constantly looked down at them but only short glances so I wouldn't get caught. Wyatt was a popular boy, and Piper was loved by all of his friends, especially because she baked… so even if I did see Chris, I guess I always assumed he was either Phoebe or Paige's or just a friend… it wasn't until two small boy's appeared in the council hall that I learned he was my son…"

_Once the commotion settled down a bit, the blond boy eyed them all warily through the veil of the shield, one arm secured tightly around the smaller dark haired child, squeezing his smaller frame reassuringly, while his other hand was clutched around the hilt of a sword. He jutted out his chin proudly, shoulders squared, his cerulean blue eyes glaring out into the crowd of white and gold as if daring them to take another step closer even though it looked like a good wind would knock him over. The dark haired boy let out a sniffle, raising his face from the taller one's neck, and the blond ignored everyone else in favor of rubbing his back._

"_Shh, Chris," he whispered soothingly. "Everything will be okay,"_

"_B-but… aunty Paige," the smaller boy choked out. "She…"_

"_I know," he said softly, hugging him tighter. "Everything will be alright. I promise."_

"_Wh… where are we?"_

_The blond faltered, his eyes scouring the room once more. "I don't know."_

_One of the men in gold stepped forward, taking their ignorance as an opportunity, and the blond gripped the sword, raising the blade slightly as a warning not to come any closer. "Blessed be," the man said by way of greeting, and the two boys shared a confused glance. "I am the Elder Zola," he said, but before he could continue, two small gasps could be heard, one of shock and the other of disgust. The blond boy narrowed his gaze._

"_An Elder?" he sneered distrustfully._

"_Wyatt," Chris muttered in slight reprimand._

_This time, it was Leo who gasped and he removed the hood concealing his face as he stepped closer. "Wyatt?" he asked with equal parts of disbelief and hope. "Wyatt Halliwell?" The boy's cold eyes locked onto his own and they stared at each other._

"_Yes. Who the hell are you?" he demanded crossly._

_Wincing, Leo answered him softly. "My name is Leo… I'm your father."_

_Wyatt groaned in dismay. "Damn orbing," he complained. "It was supposed to take us somewhere safe, not to bastard central—"_

_While many of the Elders wanted to scold him for his bad language, a small voice beat them to it, cutting the other boy off mid-sentence. "Wyatt," the small boy said tiredly, his eyes drooping closed. "Please don't." Wyatt's eyes softened and he gave a swift nod of assent, answering without words that he wouldn't purposely cause any trouble. Instead, he swayed on the spot and the sword dropped with a clatter from his limp grasp as both boys collapsed to the floor, the shield disappearing in his exhaustion._

"They were severely dehydrated, battered and bruised, and malnourished," Leon told him sadly. "They were truly lucky to have been in the midst of the Elders otherwise they wouldn't have survived the night. Since everyone knew that Wyatt was my son, they were both placed in my care while the others tried to find out what happened." He closed his eyes with a grimace. "Wyatt woke up first, unfortunately. The first thing he did was put up his shield around him and Chris, and called Excalibur to him. He refused to let anyone near either of them for hours at least. I attempted to talk him into lowering it, but he would either just glare at me or ignore me completely. It wasn't until I tried playing the guilt card on him, saying that we needed to check on his _friend_ to make sure he was okay that Wyatt snapped. He screamed at me, accused me of abandoning my sons, and called me insane if I thought he was going to let me anywhere near his brother."

"Damn," Leo breathed out.

"Yeah," Leon sighed in agreement, rubbing the back of his neck. "Once he calmed down, he didn't speak again until Chris woke up. And when he did… Chris was the complete opposite of Wyatt. He ignored all of Wyatt's attempts to keep me away from him and walked right up to me and hugged me. He was so small, so fragile… and he refused to let me go. He just kept on saying 'I have a dad' over and over again… like he hadn't believed it before." Leon took a moment to collect himself before continuing. "Chris was the one who explained what happened to them… a demon had kidnapped them nearly a month ago and Paige had finally found them. She used her powers to orb them to safety before trying to take on the demons by herself. Everything worked out in the end… Paige was rescued and I took Wyatt and Chris home… and I made the decision to try and make it work. I began spending less and less time upstairs and more time with my family."

The other Elder eyed him seriously. "… but it didn't work out."

"No," Leon said quietly. "It didn't… after two months the Elders said that I'd had my little vacation and they wanted me to concentrate on Wyatt, because he was the child of prophecy and future ruler of all magic and he clearly needed more attention," he muttered bitterly. "So I… being the good little lap dog I was, did as they said. I slowly distanced myself from Chris, and began training Wyatt. How to control his powers, the responsibility of a whitelighter, and he went through several courses on politics and magical law. And, when he turned ten, _they_ decided it was best if Wyatt lived _up there_ for the remainder of his training… everything started to deteriorate from that point on. Wyatt stuck with his training until the end, and then he basically told the Elders to screw themselves and left, and he moved back into the Manor. Six months later, Wyatt came to me demanding that I sign his emancipation papers, and then sign over all my rights as a parent to Chris over to him as well. Piper had already signed them both, Victor and Paige as the witnesses…"

Leo blinked at him in disbelief. "… What?"

"I still don't know how they got Piper to sign them," Leon sighed, his never aging body somehow looking as old and wary as he felt. "Even though Piper wouldn't win any mother of the year awards, she was still their mother and I know she loved both of them in her own way… but they moved out of the Manor to live with Victor and Phoenicia's father, just before the Trials started. They broke off all communication with Piper and Phoebe—though to be honest they hadn't spoken to Phoebe since she'd had Phoenicia institutionalized. The only one they still spoke to was Paige… but she was killed by a darklighter not long after that. Wyatt and Chris formed the Resistance along with an army of magical people, and I joined it too, as a way to try and make amends. Wyatt never forgave me… and he…" Leon trailed off. "Anyway, Chris kind of shut down after Wyatt left. He didn't trust me, so I hardly ever saw him but I heard he had a small break down before he decided to try and break Phoenicia out. He ended up getting captured himself for nearly a year. When he got out, he was a complete wreak… suicidal, depressed… he wouldn't eat and he barely slept. I spent all my time with him, caring for him. Then it was like a switch just turned on, and he immersed himself in research. By the time he began functioning on his own again, the attack happened and I died. But then the time ripples reached me, and I was able to change that outcome because of Chris. And once I learned he was here, I pulled all my power as High Elder and created a time portal… and you know what happened after that."

They were both silent for a long while after that. Leon was deep in thought, lost in his own memories while Leo was attempting to wrap his mind around everything, wondering how he could have favored one son just because he was ordered to, how he could have been so distant and heartless to his own flesh and blood.

"I won't let you make me forget," Leo said suddenly and Leon turned to him in surprise, but Leo wasn't done. "You want to fix the relationship between you and Chris, to make amends, and I get that. I respect it. But I'm not you, even if we are technically the same person. We're different people, and it sounds as if you've lived through hell, so I know that it had to have changed you in ways I'll probably never understand. I don't think the same way you do, and I probably never will. But Chris… he's my son," His voice caught, and he reveled in the fact that he had another son momentarily. "He's _my_ son, just as much as he is yours. I want to remember who he is, and what you've told me. Because, as cruel as I know this sounds… I don't want to make the same mistakes that you have." As expected, Leon flinched. "And even though I'm sure I never would even if you were to find some way to erase what I now know, I don't want to take any chances…"

"… I understand. And I agree with you, I really do. I was actually kind of hoping you would build your own relationship with him once he confessed who he was," Leon admitted to him. "Because, if this mission is successful… chances are we might remember some our timeline, and if we do I want Chris to know that his father loves him no matter what. And I can't tell you enough how glad I am that you're already so much more independent than I was back then… I know you won't blindly follow orders as I did. Of course, there is the added bonus of being able to tell you Chris's conception date to ensure he is born. It's February 2nd, so work it out with Piper already, and make sure you're around for Wyatt's birthday."

Leo smiled as he nodded. "I wouldn't miss my son's birthday, especially not if Chris's life depends on it."

"Good," Leon said. "We should probably head back to the Manor. I trust this will all stay between us…?" He waited until he got a nod in confirmation before he prepared to orb. "Wait," he said, pausing. "Tell me one thing… how were you able to throw off the effects of the memory dust? I know I wasn't able to do that when I was in your position, and I'm not even sure I could do it now. How did you?"

A slow, confident smirk blossomed over Leo's lip. "One of the very first things the valkyries teach their warriors is how to circumvent the effects of any outside influences. From mind control to memory dust and everything else—the entire first month I was repeatedly attacked with the dust, which they keep a small stock of for when they teach you how to throw off the effects. Their method of a counterattack is rather simple really, mind over matter. All I had to do was stand there like an idiot, all dazed and confused, while he attempted to redirect my thoughts. Afterwards, I just played dumb," He shrugged nonchalantly. "So really, it's his own fault it didn't work."

Leon burst out laughing. "He's going to just _love_ that!"

Meanwhile in a deserted alleyway, the young man in question appeared in a column of light. He checked his surroundings carefully, making sure he was really alone, before he sucked out of the alley and began walking down the sidewalk. He stopped once he reached his destination and took a moment to stare up at the haunted look building with some apprehension, his hand sliding into his jacket to grip the hilt of the athemé he had hidden there for reassurance. Of all the apothecaries he'd found on the web, this is the one he would have probably tried to avoid in favor of a more pleasant neighborhood. He had been all set and ready to go to this nice one downtown that seemed respectable enough, and he would have probably gotten what he needed from it, but something, or rather, some_one_ had caught his eye as he'd been about to enter.

"_See the Hart, follow the Heart." _

And indeed, Chris had seen the Hart, and as he'd predicted it wasn't the animal. Of all the people Chris had expected to see in the past, Damien Hart had not been one of them. He had very few memories of the man, most of which involved him helping out with some vanquishing potion or another or even acting as a bodyguard to Phoenicia or Luke, but Chris trusted him enough to know that even if Damien hadn't chosen a side yet that he wouldn't turn him away.

The man was a demon, a shadow demon to be exact, and as such he was inherently neutral like most demons. He followed the _Old Ways_ down to the letter, every old demonic custom and tradition, even though he himself was very modern. And he was probably the most honest demon Chris had ever met. The man was blunt, he didn't like beating around the bush and preferred it if you got right down to business. He hated liars, which was a given considering that shadow demons could sense when someone was lying… among other things. Chris knew that Damien hadn't chosen a side until the after the Trials, but he hoped that if he could get him to trust him, then maybe he could have another ally. Shadow demons are incredibly powerful, and a personal lie detector would be a valuable asset in weeding out the one who hurt Wyatt.

Steeling himself for whatever happened next, Chris opened the gate, winching as it let out a slight screech. Latching it behind him, he made his way to the front door, his body a bundle of nerves as the shudders around the windows hit the wall as he approached, despite the lack of wind. _Damien obviously knows how to keep salesmen away_, he thought wryly. No one in their right mind would willingly approach this house. It looked to be something right out of a horror film. The yard was nothing but dead grass and weeds, and the house itself was near in shambles.

Chris found it odd because from what he could remember, Damien enjoyed monetary pleasures. He had a small fortune which he'd earned over the last two centuries, and he spent his money wisely on things that he found beautiful or exotic. And he always wore the most expensive clothing, the kind that showed him off as the wealthy and handsome man he was. Even when he'd spotted him earlier, he'd been in an expensive jacket and slacks. Chris couldn't honestly picture the man he knew to live in a dump like this, and yet he'd followed him here.

With an anxious sigh, Chris knocked on the door, fidgeting nervously as he waited. When the door opened, he was met with the face of an older man, who was most definitely not the person he was expecting. And he knew just by looking that this man wasn't human. The red eyes gave it away. As did the ruby scales peaking out from the sleeves of his coat. "Can I help you young man?"

"Uh," Chris floundered. "Is Damien Hart here?"

"Yes he is," the old man smiled, drawing attention to his teeth, which were unnaturally sharp. "Please, come inside, and I will inform Master Damien of your arrival in a moment. He is currently with a client." The man stepped aside, and Chris entered cautiously. He was led out of the foyer into a rather spacious lounge. "May I take your coat?" the man offered.

The inside of the house was nothing like the outside of it, Chris noticed as he divested himself of his jacket, taking care first to slide the athemé up the sleeve of his shirt. Whereas the outside had been shabby, old and looking ready to collapse at any moment, the inside was pristine and well cared for, and most definitely not the house he saw before he entered. There was a grand staircase leading to another floor, though the house had only one level from outside. The lounge in itself was at least five times larger than the house appeared.

"Pocket dimension?" Chris guessed, but when he was met with silence, he looked back at where the old man had been only to find himself alone. "Figures," he mumbled to himself as he gazed around the room. He opened up his senses, just to check to make sure the old man had really gone or if he was hiding somewhere just out of sight. To his surprise, he was indeed alone in the room now, but also wasn't in California any longer. No, he was in Italy, Tuscany to be exact. "Not a pocket dimension then," he murmured to himself. "A space displacement spell."

The door was a portal, to put it more simply. Damien probably did own that rundown old house in San Francisco, but it probably wasn't even inhabited. It was just a doorway to get to his real home, here in Italy, Chris figured. Damien probably owned many more residences then, and Chris was willing to bet that most of them were probably connected to this one house. He could have clients all over the world and yet never have to leave the comfort of his own home. Chris shook his head in wonderment—he didn't even need any type of transportation power to go anywhere he please… he just had to step out his front door.

After five minutes of waiting, he decided to sit upon the fine, black leather sofa. He started when a glass of something kind of fizzy drink and a plate of hors d'oeuvres appeared of the glass coffee table in front of him. He eyed them curiously, recognizing the treats as a type of blackberry tart, but didn't take one even though they smelt amazing. Instead he waited, keeping a tight grip on his athemé, ready for anything or anyone to attack him. He didn't really think Damien would attack him but he was anxious and he was paranoid. Not a good combination. After another fifteen minutes of waiting, a shadow detached itself from the wall and began to form into a familiar figure. Chris stood cautiously as the man stepped closer, observing him.

Damien stood before him, in a casual pair of black slacks and smoky gray silken shirt that contrasted nicely with his olive skin. He moved with the same deadly feline grace that Phoenicia possessed, though he carried himself differently. He was more confident, stronger, and more capable of ripping someone to shreds. Chris met his stormy dark onyx eyes levelly even as they stared down at him menacingly. If it hadn't been for the fact that Chris had grown up with Wyatt and Luke, Chris would have probably looked away. Compared to those two, Damien was a kitten to be stared down. Though the tattoos on the side of his face gave him a bit of an edge, as did the scars upon his shaved head, and he was still intimidating by sheer size alone. He towered over Chris, embarrassingly enough, and had at least two hundred pounds of pure muscle on him.

Damien was obviously expecting him to speak first, as he turned away and walked over to the mini bar in the corner and began mixing himself something to drink. Chris took a deep breath, attempting to remember the etiquette lessons Phoenicia had given him years ago. He hadn't used a formal demonic greeting since he was nine years old, and it took a few moments for him to get the wording just right.

Chris waited until Damien returned his attention back to him and he bowed his head, not enough to see his scruffy sneakers but enough to show he respected the demon before him and trusted him enough not to attack. "Hail to the Shadow Lord. May no light be shown upon you." A thick eyebrow rose at the formal greeting, and Chris had the vague notion that he was slightly impressed.

"Hail to the Sunlight Phoenix," Damien said in return, his voice deep and rough. Chris jerked his head up in surprise, eyes going wide. "May your fire always burn like the sun." He let out a low laugh as he observed him, answering before he asked. "Voices are very telling, kid. I knew what you were the moment you spoke." He sipped at his drink casually. "It's rare to see an Elemental on the surface. Especially one of your caliber,"

Chris swallowed slightly. "My caliber,"

Dark eyes settled on him. "You know what you are," he said evenly. "I don't need to say it."

"Yeah," he nodded.

"So who directed you here," Damien asked.

"What do you mean?"

"My business is one hundred percent referral, kid," Damien said. "Who'd you hear about me from?"

"Oh," Chris frowned. "I didn't know that,"

"You didn't answer my question,"

"My cousin," Chris said with a hint of annoyance.

"And who's your cousin?"

"Phoenicia Halliwell,"

Damien frowned slightly. "You know what's strange, kid? I know when someone's lying, and I can tell you're not. But I've never heard of your cousin. So how did she know about me?"

"Oh, you do know her," Chris said with an impish grin, which only grew wider as Damien's frown intensified. "You've known her for years. You think of her as a little sister, in fact, and you're her brother's personal body guard. You'd do anything for either of them. And that is why I'm pretty sure you'll be willing to help me out."

Damien advanced on him with an angry scowl. "How are you doing that?" he demanded. He stopped inches away, and Chris relaxed slightly, knowing that even though he'd irritated him that the demon wouldn't attack him even if he was angry.

"Because I'm not lying," Chris told him. "My name is Christopher Halliwell, I'm the son of Piper Halliwell and Leo Wyatt, and I'm from about eighteen years or so into the future."

"… That explains a lot, actually," Damien said wryly as he took a few steps back. "Couldn't you have just said that, rather than annoy the hell out of me?"

Chris smiled sheepishly. "Where would have been the fun in that?" he asked. "It's not every day you can get one up on a shadow demon."

Damien snorted as he finished his cocktail. "I think I like you, kid," He set the glass down and poured himself another. "But if you ever do anything like that again, I'll break your neck."

"Right," Chris rolled his eyes. "Anyway, I need help with a potion."

"I kind of figured, considering I run an apothecary," he said. "What's your poison?"

"I'm combining a simple _penitus vigoratus_," Chris explained, hesitating before saying the other. "With _oraculum stabilitas,_" He winched slightly when Damien choked on his drink. The man stared at him with unreadable eyes, as he set his glass down and grabbed a napkin to clean his face with.

"And potion to heal internal injuries and the… Oracle stabilizer," Damien said, shaking his head. "You're insane. The _oraculum stabilitas_ is nearly impossible to make on its own, and you're trying to combine it with a healing potion? Sorry kid, but that just ain't gonna happen."

Chris scowled. "Yes it will," he said vehemently. "They share many of the same base ingredients, even if they were supposed to be added at different stages, and I've made my own revisions to compensate for that. They've combined flawlessly… I just can't get the attunement right. No matter what I've tried, it's not attuning to her properly. I even used her blood as the base instead of water, and it's still not right! The best it will do now is last for a few hours at a time, but if I can attune it right, then it should last for no less than twelve hour, maybe even more!"

Damien studied him for a second. "You successfully made _oraculum stabilitas_?"

"Yes," Chris sighed.

"And combined it with a _penitus vigoratus_?"

"… Yes."

"Damn," Damien whistled, rubbing his hand over his bald scalp. He shook his head several times, obviously trying to wrap his mind around it. "Is she just a Seer or…" Chris winced slightly, and that was enough of a confirmation for Damien. He shook head once more. "Damn. I can understand why you want this so much then. She the cousin you mentioned earlier? Phoenicia?"

"Yeah," Chris said quietly. "She did kind of direct me here. _See the Hart, follow the Heart_."

"And I'm the Hart, obviously." Damien replied. "And I'm guessing that the _Heart_ means something else,"

"Instincts," he answered. "She often substitutes heart and instinct, I'm not even sure she realizes there's a difference between the two. I think she was saying that, when I saw the _Hart_, that I shouldn't think with my head but with my instincts. I don't know you now, here in this time. You could be a completely different person from the Damien Hart that I know because eighteen years is a long time and you could probably be a complete asshole right now… but the Damien Hart I know… I trust him with not only my life, but with my cousin, my _twin_'s life."

Damien studied him with a slight grin. "Your twin?" he repeated curiously. "So, she's not only an Oracle, but she's your twin as well? Anything else about I should know, since I'm going to be helping you with this insane potion of yours?"

"No, not really," Chris said with a casual tone. "Unless, of course, you count the fact that when she's born in this time, she will not only become the first Air Elemental to be born in the last thousand years, but she will also inherit the title of Heir Apparent to the throne of the Midlands,"

Damien glared at him. "Is that all?" he drawled sarcastically. "She's just a greater element, an Oracle, an astral twin, and demonic royalty. No big deal, right…? Has anyone ever told you that you have a seriously screwed up family?"

Chris chuckled. "All the time," he grinned. "So you'll help? With the potion, I mean?"

"Yeah," the demon sighed. "Might as well. It's not like I have anything else to do right now,"

"Thank you," Chris said to him in quiet tones, his voice serious and his eyes boring into the demon's sincerely. "I can't thank you enough. Even if we can't get it right, just the fact that you're willing to help me with it is enough for me to know that you will always be a friend of the Warren line." Chris's head bowed before the man in respect, and he carefully intoned something that made Damien's heart still in his chest. "I, Fire Master Phoenix, hereby offer the Shadow Lord Damien Hart the friendship of the _Illuminati_, and grant thee the protection of the elements. Should you ever need assistance, just shout it to the winds or ask it of the sea. As I command it, so shall it be."

Damien swallowed the lump that formed in his throat as he bowed his head in acknowledgement. He was becoming increasingly aware that he was changing as the heaviness of the boy's words was enacted upon. He became more aware of the air around him, how it began surrounding him in an invisible and impenetrable shield, of how he no longer felt cold as he usually did and instead at the perfect temperature. The ground beneath him felt different, as if it was leveling out any imperfections in the soil that he could possibly trip over, and he somehow just knew that he would never have to worry about paying his water bill ever again. He honestly wasn't quite sure how to respond to such an honor, to be befriended by the elements was something everyone dreamed about but never believed would happen to them.

"It's not just honorary," Chris explained to him. "The elements will protect you, as our element protects us. Should you ever find yourself needing sanctuary, all you have to do is ask it and you will be instantly transported to _Desair Atei_, the home of the _Illuminati._"

"I," Damien breathed deeply. "I'm not sure how to respond."

Chris smiled at his humble reaction. "It's alright. There is no need to respond. You have already proven yourself to be an ally of my people, so all I really did was ensure that it is known that you are an ally of ours as well, and any attempts to harm you will be as severe as attacking the Elementals directly."

"I'm guessing that would be bad?"

The devilish smirk on Chris's face was telling enough. "Anyway," the young man said as he reached into his pocket and extracted a small folded up piece of paper. He offered it to Damien. "Here is the list of ingredients I need for the final stage of the potion." He watched as the man read the list silently. "… If you could gather that, and anything else you think we might need, I'll just go and adjust the Wards so you can find the place."

Once Damien agreed, Chris dissolved into blue and white orbs, disappearing from sight and reappearing in his grotto. He made the correct adjustments needed for Damien to be able to sense the location, before likewise altering the protective spells surrounding his station where the finalizing potion rested. It wouldn't do Damien any good to come help if he wasn't even allowed to go near the potion, now would it?

After nearly five minutes, Damien arrived with a small collection of ingredients and supplies. He looked around the cave with a casual interest before he got right to work. Chris handed him the notebook full of every step of both the original recipes and the revisions he'd made, as well as his own thoughts on the reactions, to read so he would know everything Chris knew about it. Chris settled himself down on one of the sofas as he waited for the man to finish reading. It would probably take half the night to finish the book, he was sure, and then they would be hard pressed to fix the potion before it finalized in the morning.

**End  
Chapter**

Hey guys,

Happy New Year! I hope you're all not too upset by the delay in updates, but it really couldn't have been avoided. December was such a crazy month that I barely had any down time, let enough the time or energy to write. Also, a bit of fair warning—I've been promoted at work, and even though it means I'm getting paid more, it also means more work and longer hours, and therefore less time to write. And so, updates will no longer be as consistent as before. I will still try to update regularly, though it probably won't be on every Sunday anymore. I _will _try to get them done as soon as possible. Hopefully I'll get used to my new schedule quickly, and maybe then I'll be back to updating weekly soon.

And if anyone is having trouble picturing what Damien Hart looks like, look up the actor Vin Diesel, especially as the character Richard B. Riddick. Now Damien is definitely _not_ Riddick and I'm not aiming to portray him as such. For one Riddick is a stone cold killer, and Damien is definitely _not,_ so their personalities differ from each other greatly already. I guess I just see Damien as having the same casual, lethal grace that Riddick just exudes. More of an exotic animal than human or demon, I guess you could say.

Lynx


	8. The Consequences

**Finding Yourself  
**_The Consequences_

**Wednesday, November 26****th****, 2003  
**It seemed as if the night had gone by at a painstakingly slow pace, and even though Chris had become increasingly frustrated over the past few hours since it was taking even longer than he had expected to finish the potion, which was swiftly reaching completion, even he had to admit that they had made great progress. Damien had already proved to be extremely helpful, and of course Chris should have expected it considering the fact that the man had such a high recommendation.

Now it wouldn't be long until the potion finalized, and Chris had taken to pacing and chewing on his bottom lip as he let the shadow demon take on the task of figuring out the final steps. It wasn't that he was worried really, because the potion would be enough to at least give his cousin a few hours reprieve instead of the brief and occasional moments. He just didn't like feeling useless, standing around while someone else did all the work—granted, he'd done a majority of it before even approaching Damien, and there wasn't much left to do now, but he couldn't help feeling that way.

"Anything yet?" he asked restlessly.

Damien paused in what he was doing and looked up at him with an unreadable look before he suddenly selected some herbs and placed them in front of the younger man. "I need you to grind the rosemary," he ordered sternly. "Once you're done with that, slice the sassafras leaves."

Obediently Chris complied with his directions, though not without a frown. "Why do we need rosemary and sassafras?" he asked, though unfortunately enough for him, the other man wasn't going to answer. With a sigh he began the task he'd been assigned, grumbling under his breath the entire time. Just as he was finishing up, he felt a sudden and sharp pain in his arm. "Shit!" he cried, spinning around as he clasped a hand over his now wounded shoulder. Damien was examining the bloodstained athamé carefully. "What the hell was that for?" he demanded, eyes burning with anger as he glared at him.

Damien ignored him in favor of allowing the droplets of blood to fall into the potion—immediately the volatile liquid simmered and sizzled, churning the new ingredient into the fold. "When you tried attuning it to her, you forgot to take into account one simple factor,"

"Oh," Chris sneered, seriously close to burning the other man to a crisp, future friend or not. "And what's that?"

"You,"

Chris felt his anger fade into confusion, and stared at him strangely. "… What?"

"Astral twins share many things," Damien began explaining, though he was positive that the younger man probably knew more about the subject than he did. "The sharing of souls is obvious enough, as is their mystical energy which allows them to, on the rarest occasions, access each other's powers. This energy isn't just spiritual, Chris, it also resides in the blood. Her blood…" The potions suddenly changed colors, transforming from the murky color it was to a surprising clear one, like filtered water. "And yours."

Chris stared in awe at the potion as it calmed, no longer bubbling or shooting sparks. He quickly took a few samples and tested the potion, sitting back in shock with his findings and needing a moment to process what this meant. He ran a hand through his hair, elation and wonder filling him—they had done it. They'd really done it… they had created a potion that would not only allow his twin to keep in control of her thoughts and actions but it would also work to repair the damage done to her mind over time, which would make the need for the potion less and less.

The potion was stable and attuned properly, and by his best estimation the potion would work for at least eighteen hours, if not _more_, after she ingested it before the effects wore off. He was quick to calculate how much of the precious liquid they had, figuring that this batch would probably last the entire month at the least, perhaps longer if it healed the damage timely. Out of the corner of his eye, his spotted Damien writing down the final step—a few drops of Chris' own blood—beneath everything else they had already done.

"Thank you," Chris whispered earnestly, feeling more grateful to the man than he could ever express. He stood once more and the two of them set about separating the doses into different phials, which Chris then hid in a cupboard that had the strongest protections he could place around it so no one other than he and Damien could access it. "Wait," he frowned suddenly. "What was the rosemary and sassafras for?"

The older man raised a thick eyebrow. "To give you something to do," he answered evenly. "You kept interrupting me, and your pacing was distracting. You were beginning to get annoying. It got you to shut up for a while."

Sea green eyes widened, and Chris adopted a highly affronted look. "Seriously?" he asked loudly, deflating a moment later because, granted, if someone paced and kept asking 'are you done yet' or any variation of it, he would have found it distracting as well. "Sorry. I was just anxious and… sorry," Damien shrugged as he finished cleaning the small mess they had made. Chris licked his dry lips, everything inside of his body urging him to leave right now so he could finally be truly reunited with his twin. "How much do I owe you?"

Damien leveled a look on him. "Do you honestly believe that I expect payment for _this_?" he asked evenly, shaking his head before Chris even had a chance to ponder what he meant. "You've told me that this girl is considered family to me in your time. _You_ yourself made me a friend of the _Illuminati_. The only thing I want in return is to see if we accomplished what we intended."

Chris smiled briefly. He'd forgotten how honorable this particular demon was. "We'll be going into the manor of the Charmed Ones," he cautioned, wanting to make sure Damien knew exactly what he was getting himself into by volunteering to come along. "They're not particularly fond of demons, especially when they appear in their home. I can make sure they won't hurt you, however they don't know of my relation to them, nor do they know of Phoenicia's demonic ancestry, so please don't bring it up."

The large man considered this carefully, and slowly nodded. "I understand."

Knowing that the man wouldn't be dissuaded from his decision, Chris approached him and placed a hand on his shoulder as he prepared to orb them to the manor. However the demon tensed, startled by the action, and he smiled in amusement. "We're going into the home of the Charmed Ones, and trust me when I say that no matter how human you look, they will attack first and ask questions later. I'm going to have to take you there, and to do that I need physical contact." Damien relaxed slightly and soon their bodies dissolved into blue and white lights and they appeared in the dining room of the house.

Chris released him and was about to call for his cousin when she appeared in front of them, just as Phoebe and Piper emerged from the kitchen. Before he could react, Piper had raised her arms and Damien was blasted back—he tensed, hurrying to step in front of the demon. Damien himself merely stumbled back slightly from the blast, which stung terribly but was otherwise of no consequence. He looked down and was surprised to find that though his shirt was now damaged beyond repair, his skin was unharmed other than a slight redness as if it were a sunburn—which faded suddenly as a soft breeze swirled over his skin to soothe the pain.

"Interesting," he murmured, knowing that yesterday he wouldn't have survived an attack like that. He glanced at Chris, wondering if being befriended by the elements had anything to do with the fact that he wasn't dead, only to find that the younger man's attention was on the slight wisp of a girl who seemed unconcerned about anything.

Chris smiled at her in greeting, hand sweaty as he extracted the phial they had prepared for her, and the young woman returned the look mildly before she regarded Damien with a calm curiosity. She stepped forward and made her way to the demon, stopping only a foot away from him. And then she smiled widely, bringing her right hand up to her face and releasing the glamour on her own face. She then moved the hand in a sweeping gesture as she bowed her head slightly.

When the young woman righted herself, Phoebe let out a small gasp as the tattoos appeared on her daughter's face—several black runes were inked into the soft flesh of her cheek, starting just below her eye and continuing in long lines down past her nose. Phoebe reacted without thinking as her sister's hands as they began to rise in a familiar fashion once again, her own hands shooting out to grasp the older woman's. The runes inked into the girl's skin weren't the exact same as the enormous man's, though they were similar enough to keep Phoebe from attacking him once more, especially with how close her daughter was standing to him now.

"Hail to the Shadow Lord," Phoenicia breathed out quietly. "May no light be shown upon you."

Damien gave her an appraising look, once again impressed with the etiquette that these two possessed. "Hail to the ashen Saybl. May you always soar high above the clouds." The young woman smiled at him again, obviously pleased by his response, and she turned away from him to look at her twin. Apparently reading his intentions, she held out her hand expectantly for the potion.

Chris smiled softly. "I will be right here if this doesn't work, Mia," he told her as he worked to pull the stopper out of phial. She accepted it with no apprehension whatsoever and looked down into the clear liquid curiously. A throat cleared as she was raising it to her lips but she didn't appear to notice. Chris, however, did. He sighed and began explaining before they could even ask—or rather, _demand_—for one. "This is the potion I've been working on. It's finished, and in a few moments she'll be her normal obnoxious self."

Phoenicia placed the cool glass against her lips and let the liquid pour down her throat without a conscious thought, grimacing at the intense sweetness. Blue-gray eyes blinked slowly, and she glanced around swiftly, taking in the anxious look on her mother's face, the suspicious one aimed at Damien by her aunt while the shadow demon himself merely watched her with a clinical interest, and the hopefulness in her twin's own sea-green eyes. She could feel the tension in the room increase as the moments passed by with no change.

The young woman was not worried however, for she had seen the outcome and knew that her faith in her cousin and in Damien was not misplaced… especially not as she felt her stomach begin to churn as the potion began to take effect. A soft tingling feeling spread throughout her body, originating in her head before it drifted down the expanse of her back and to her toes. She shuddered slightly and her eyes fluttered closed for a moment. And then it all stopped, and she winced at the onslaught of emotions and feelings and memories that were not her own bombarded her, along an overflow of knowledge that she couldn't possibly know.

It took longer than she would have hoped to reign it all in, to get control. She inhaled deeply, and held her breath for a moment and suddenly exhaled, releasing everything that did not belong to her in that one breath. It was like being purged of a poison, cleansed and purified. She opened her eyes slowly, steely gray and ice blue eyes with a hint of blazing amber in sharp focus as she raised her head slightly. Her eyes connected with Chris'—and then she pulled her arm back and punched him squarely in the jaw.

As the surprisingly strong fist connected with his face, Chris felt both a great relief and apprehension, accompanied by the mind numbing pain the blow itself caused. The pain wasn't the worst he had ever felt, nor was it as bad as it could have been and was relieved that Phoenicia pulled her punch. Getting hit full-force would have knocked him unconscious for a week, he was sure. As it were, he was only knocked off his feet and thrown back into the china cabinet with a deafening _smash_. Chris shook the broken ceramic pieces out of his hair and slowly raised his head, smiling brightly at his cousin.

"Hello Mia,"

"It didn't work!" one of the sister's cried but Chris was too busy pulling himself away from the remains of the cabinet to see which one. He spared a vague look in their direction, noting that the crash had apparently alerted everyone to their presence, the two versions of his father and Paige appearing and ready for a fight. He sat up with a painful winch while Phoenicia looked down on him unsympathetically with her hands on her hip in a very motherly pose. Her entire demeanor was practically screaming at him. Swallowing his nervousness under her angry glower, Chris shot her a cheeky grin.

"That was cheating," he stated, using his telekinesis to lift himself back up effortlessly.

The dark haired girl scoffed. "Like you've never given your punches a magical _oomph_,"

"Yeah, but at least this," he made a grand sweeping gesture to the rubble that was once the china cabinet. "… Yeah, this wasn't my fault."

"Christopher," she said with a sickly sweet smile, immediately causing him to tense in uneasiness. "_Run_."

The young man didn't need to be told twice and he made a break for it, trying to get out of the dining room and into the conservatory. However the girl appeared right in front of him, her body arriving with a gentle breeze of cold air, her arms poised for a fight. Suppressing a groan of dismay, Chris reached up and blocked her fist. She took a half step back and Chris was forced to drop to the floor in order to avoid the foot that nearly kicked him in the head.

"_You're an idiot!_" she said to him telepathically. "_A complete and utter idiot!_"

Chris rolled over and scrambled to his feet as she attacked again. "_Hey! Quit insulting my intelligence!_"

"_What intelligence?_" Phoenicia barked back, somehow managing to get a firm grip on his arm. She maneuvered her side against his front and propelled him over her shoulder and into the wall. "_You need to have it to be able to insult it, Christopher!_" she growled at him. "_What the heck were you thinking, Chris? Time travel? You know how dangerous this is!_"

"_If I recall_," he scowled at her, attempting to block the next onslaught. "_I got this idea from you. And, you're here too, you know!_"

Narrowing her eyes in obvious displeasure, Phoenicia unexpectedly swerved around Chris and swept his feet out from under him. He crashed to the floor on his back, and she straddled him and pressed her elbow into his throat. "_By no choice of my own, I assure you. I merely followed the pretty trail of fire!_" she bit out in annoyance, though making no mention of the fact that, yes, this had been her original plan. Chris struggled beneath her for a moment before he finally got the upper hand by fighting dirty—his fingers attacked her sides and she collapsed on top of him in a fit of giggles. "No fair!" the young woman gasped.

Using her distraction to his advantage, Chris reversed their positions and beamed down at her. "Am I forgiven?" he asked her, his voice dripping with honey. She eyed him wearily but Chris decided to go full force and gave her his patented puppy dog look, which she had never been able to resist. Sighing with irritation, she suddenly evaporated from his view and reappeared standing behind him, trying to compose herself. "Pwetty pwease, Mia," he begged in a childish voice, turning around to face her.

"Oh, all right," she huffed, crossing her arms as Chris began to smirk at his success. "But you do something this stupid and unnecessary again," she began to threaten, a sudden gleam in her eyes while she paused meaningfully for a dramatic effect. "… and I'm summoning the Waterboy." While her words had little to no effect on the others watching the proceedings, any triumph Chris might have felt at her agreeing not to resume her attack vanished instantly and he went pale.

"You wouldn't!"

Phoenicia smirked. "Wouldn't I?"

"You're pure evil!" he accused sulkily, knowing she would stand by her threat.

"So I've been told," she replied calmly. "Oh, and Chris," She suddenly smacked him upside the head. "That is for going back in time without me," She punched his shoulder. "And this is for doing _you-know-what_ and nearly erasing yourself out of existence," Once again she made to slap him somewhere but Chris hurriedly grabbed her wrist and twisted her around so that her arm was locked behind her.

"Glad to have you back, Mia," he told her with a chuckle, eyes gleaming brightly. She looked over her shoulder at him, tossing him a withering glare that he knew meant trouble. The next thing he knew he was on his back with no idea how he got there, staring at the ceiling with a confused expression plastered on his face. "Ouch," he commented belatedly and Phoenicia smirked down at him.

"Nice to be back," she said, reaching down to grab his offered hand, and lifting him up into the air effortlessly. Once he was on his feet, she sent a sharp kick to his shins, causing him to dance like the headless chicken she knew he was. "Brat,"

"Mia," he whined, leaning down to rub at the affected area. "What'd I do now?"

"Nothing," she replied happily. "I just wanted to get one more shot in,"

Chris rolled his eyes at her fondly. "Of course," he said, the playfulness slowly fading from him as he eyed her in concern. "Now that that's over with, how are you feeling? Are there any side effects? Dizziness, nausea, anything?" Phoenicia scowled at him, knowing that his concern for her health was once again overriding everything else. Why did they have to be so alike in that aspect?

Sighing she tilted her head in thought. "I'm abnormally hungry, especially since I just had breakfast half an hour ago. I'm also kind of jittery," she told him seriously, shrugging it off uncaringly. "It's kind of like a sugar hype." Her eyes suddenly lit up. "In fact, it's kind of like that Halloween when we enchanted all that candy and couldn't fall asleep for three days!" She grinned impishly.

Chris grinned back at her, resisting the urge to snicker at her childlike enthusiasm. "Well that's better than being dead on your feet," he said, watching with no small amount of amusement as she started bouncing on the balls of her feet, apparently more antsy than either of them had initially realized. "Okay hop-along," he shook his head with a wry smile. "I think it's time to properly introduce you to everyone," Phoenicia paused, suddenly deflating.

"Aw," she pouted. "I already know everyone!"

"Yeah but they don't know you,"

Rolling her eyes, Phoenicia burped abruptly as the side effects of the potion began to wear off already, leaving her feeling refreshed rather than hyper. "You _seriously_ just killed my sugar hype," she told him with a sour look. She accepted his hand nonetheless and allowed him to drag her closer to where the others were congregating, watching the two of them with varying looks of amusement and anxiousness.

The brunette looked at them all blankly. "Yo,"

Chris snorted. "Yo?" he queried.

Phoenicia merely scowled briefly before all emotion fled from her features. "Hello," she amended loftily. "I am Phoenicia Naomi… Halliwell," If anyone noticed the pause, they made no mention of it. "And I'm a thirteen year old stuck in a seventeen year olds body. My hobbies include creating new dimensions and skydiving without a parachute or a plane, though it's not something I'd recommend for you. I can play the piano but I prefer the violin. I absolutely hate mayonnaise and I have an affinity for air, fire and pyromaniacs. Oh, I also have an unhealthy obsession for video games and I love, love, _love_ pineapple pizza."

Chris coughed to cover up his laugh. "Okay, confuse them with enough craze and random facts much?"

"At least I don't do the cryptic Elder thing," she retorted, throwing him a grin.

"No, you just like messing with people's heads,"

"Of course," Phoenicia agreed, smile vanishing. "If they can mess with mine, I can mess with theirs," The dark haired man sighed and squeezed her hand in reassurance. She spared him a thankful glance before turning back to look at the group of stunned people. They seemed too dazed and confused to do anything other than stare. "Well?" she demanded crossly. "Are you just going to stand there all day?"

Damien stepped forward bowing his head. "My name is Damien Hart," he introduced unnecessarily but it earned him a blinding smile from the young woman.

Leo decided to follow the shadow demon's lead and uttered a near silent greeting. "Hello Phoenicia,"

Piper frowned unsurely. "Nice to meet you…?"

"Yeah," Paige said, shifting uncomfortably. "Its… great to see you're feeling better."

Phoebe blustered out a "Hi!" and Leon merely nodded to her respectfully.

"Great," the young woman deadpanned, not feeling the least bit happy to see anyone other than Damien really. These were the people who betrayed her after all—why would she want to be civil to them? "Chris," She turned to him and smiled lightly. "Let's get some food and we'll begin discussing the next course of action. Then I say we kick back and relax, and pick up the slack tomorrow,"

Chris nodded. "Okay," he agreed, trusting her decision. He paused when he finally took in all the destruction they had caused during their little scuffle. He sighed, knowing that his cousin could have fixed it all in a heartbeat if she wanted to. However since it appeared she wasn't planning on it, he decided to do it himself and recited a quick spell. "_Let the object of objection become but a dream, as I cause this scene to become unseen._"

As the room magically righted itself, Phoenicia gave him a look before she snagged a hold of Damien's wrist and then proceeded to drag the both of them into the kitchen, where she then conjured a large bowl of teriyaki chicken and rice, complete with eggrolls and fortune cookies. She sat down in the chair beside Chris and created a few bowls and eating utensils.

"So, how far have you gotten on your lists?" she asked him, taking a large helping of food and plopping it into her bowl. Chris copied the movement, knowing she wouldn't be happy unless he ate… and ate… and ate… and ate until his stomach was so full that he passed out from it. He was likely to have food pouring from his nose by tomorrow morning if he knew Phoenicia half as well as he thought he did.

"I've managed to get through the first three pages," he told her. "But you already knew that,"

Phoenicia sighed, giving him a look. "I was being polite,"

"… Oh,"

"So only three pages," she said. "Out of ten,"

Even though he knew she hadn't meant it to be hurtful or mean, that she was just stating fact, it irked him. "Well excuse me if I haven't been able to convince _them_," He jerked his head towards the sisters and the clone of his father who were still milling around curiously. "The importance of hunting demons before they hunt _us_,"

Phoenicia chewed thoughtfully and glanced over to her estranged family. She felt a bit smug to sense their irritation and confusion about not being included in their little conversation, having to stoop to eavesdropping on them. They wanted to understand, to know more about her and it frustrated them that she apparently hated them. And she didn't hate them really but a part of her would always resent them for what they did to her family, her _real_ family, which consisted of a handful of people—all of which were most decidedly _not them_.

Sighing she looked back at her brother for all intents and purposes. "I'm guessing they weren't willing to listen?"

Chris shook his head slowly. "If it had to do with hunting, they only wanted the bare minimum of information about the demon in question so they could kill it. Not anything else._ Not to mention they barely listen to me about anything,_" he added telepathically so only she would hear. "_They complain every single time I try to get them to hunt. They're more concerned finding out what my agenda is then they are about everyone who is out there dying because they want a normal life._" He tried extra hard not to sneer at them for it.

Her own lips curling in distaste, Phoenicia shook her head. "Pathetic,"

The three sisters gave her affronted looks. "Hey!"

"No," Phoenicia said, standing up to face them. She had a lot of issues with these women and she was having a hard time keeping her anger in check but she also knew they needed to hear this. "You truly are pathetic. You wouldn't last a full day in our time without either getting captured by mortals or killed by demons. I guarantee it. You would flounder around, unsure and terrified in a city that you wouldn't recognize. Your constant need for a normal life outweighed everything else where we're from too, always trying to eradicate anything you viewed as… _abnormal,_" she hissed bitterly. "In the end, only one of you is still alive and even then that's only because you embraced everything you are," At this she spared Paige look that vaguely resembled kindness. "You left so many messes for our generation to clean up because you were too lazy to even bother. We understand that _normal_ is vastly overrated and being unique… is better. Stop vying for a normal life because where we're from, _normal_ is dying before you reach the age of eighteen." And with that, the young woman sat back down.

Needless to say they were all stunned into silence.

"Chris," Phoenicia began in warning, noticing he had stopped eating.

"Sorry, Mia," he said meekly, hastily shoveling food into his mouth.

Satisfied that he was going to continued eating and getting the nourishment she knew his neglected body needed, she took a moment to organize her own thoughts. She hoped her harsh words had shocked the sisters into actually _listening_ to what she was saying. She knew for a fact that her words had clearly affected Paige, though the redhead didn't really need half as much encouraging as the other two did. And Chris was not off the hook just yet—after all, he had pretty much stolen her plot to travel through time, a plan that took her months to come up with and he did it on a misguided whim. Also there was the teensy little fact that he had probably _erased himself out of existence!_ This was a wrong she was planning to right even if it meant brewing the strongest lust potion she knew and forcing it down Piper and Leo's throats and locking them in a room for twenty-four hours.

Of course there were other things Phoenicia had to do as well. First thing in the morning, she needed to convert the basement into a place for her and Chris to live, because if they were going to be forced to stay here longer than a month, she wouldn't have her cousin sleeping on a bed made of boxes and old blankets in a deserted office while a band played in the background. She also needed to create wards for the manor. She was positive that Chris would have done it himself sooner or later but they only had a few months for everything to pan out the way she saw it, and for that to happen the wards couldn't wait.

Currently the manor was unprotected and vulnerable, and she would have to cast and hold the wards by herself because asking Chris to help would just be another burden on his already heavily burdened shoulders. If she could relieve just the smallest amount of worry and stress from him then maybe he could concentrate on taking care of himself for once. She was pretty sure she could cast the wards by herself, and she knew she was strong enough to hold them against any magical attack. She hadn't done any rituals in years, and therefore her magical reserves were overflowing with the need to be unconstrained.

There was also one last thing she needed to concentrate on while she was here. Phoenicia would be the first to admit that her main priority was to aid Chris in getting back their brother. Wyatt had suffered with a fractured soul for so long, and it killed her to know that he hadn't heeded her advice. She would do everything in her power to stop _him_ before he got to Wyatt while she was here. But being what she was Phoenicia also knew that she had to look at the larger picture. If they were going to change the future, then they couldn't just be selfish and change it so that only their family was truly affected.

They needed to change the entire world, not just their family. And it was true that with Wyatt at their side, _whole_ and _truly_ at their side, that the world would already be a better place because when the four of them stood together they were an unstoppable force that could obliterate anything in their path should they choose it, it would be easier to change everything before it happened. To do this she needed her twin's cooperation.

"_Chris_," she thought to him, taking a sobering breath as he turned to look at her questioningly. "_While saving you and Wyatt is our top priority, we still need to consider other things as well._" He frowned for a moment before his eyes widened into understanding. "_I have a plan in mind but it will take a while to iron out the details. I hope to get a majority of it done before we reach our deadline and you go poof. Are we in this together?_"

Chris smiled at her. "_Always, Mia,_" he swore. "_Always_,"

"Good," she whispered, pushing the fortune cookies to him and Damien. She watched as Chris read his, the tension caused by their privet conversation drowned out by his sudden laughter. She smirked at him briefly before giving a fleeting glance to Damien, whose lips were likewise twitching in amusement as he read his fortune. It wasn't the wide smile she'd hoped for—after all he wasn't their Damien. He was still suspicious here, much less friendly. She hoped she could bring him out of that shell a whole fourteen years early and the fortune cookie was a step in that direction.

_Good fortune is smiling upon you. So smile back! Lucky numbers: 16 17 32 34 43 31_

Phoenicia knew it wasn't the best fortune in the world, nor was it the best she had ever come up with, but it had the desired effect. He found it amusing. She could also sense that he was planning to enter the lucky numbers in the upcoming lottery drawing—and the next few after that because those numbers would earn him over sixty million dollars if he played them in exactly one month's time. And granted his fortune wasn't quite as lame as the one she'd chosen for Chris, who apparently found it uproariously hilarious.

_Never trust a fortune made by a cookie. It will say anything to ensure it won't be eaten._

Chris and Phoenicia continued on with their mental conversations, having no need to hide the fact that they didn't actually need words to communicate since Leon had taken all the suspicion away from that yesterday by cursing the higher power that had gifted them with telepathy. Leon himself had taken the liberty to approach Damien, and Leo had tagged along curiously as the three engaged in a conversation of their own. And since it was obvious that they were being studiously ignored, the sisters decided to conveniently forget about that fact that Chris had let yet another demon into their home and busied themselves with menial tasks. Whether or not Chris and Phoenicia's unwillingness to even acknowledge them was intentional or not was still open for debate.

Everyone continued on in this manner until Phoenicia paused midsentence. She fought it; she truly did because she hadn't had a chance to ward the house yet so they were probably still being monitored, especially with more than one Elder in the house. And she couldn't even ask Damien to protect her because if she opened her mouth she knew she would lose the inward battle she was valiantly trying to fight. A battle she was already losing.

Chris placed a hand on her shoulder. "Mia?" he questioned in concern.

The young woman gasped and her eyes glazed over unwillingly. "_The Veil of Time unravels,_" she began in a delicate, unwavering tone that made her sound ancient. Instantly Chris was alert and on edge, recognizing her words for what they were. He paid close attention, as did Leon and Damien while the others just paused in confusion. "_Giving way to the Dragon; the Gateways will falter, giving way to the Lycan. If the Dragon does not answer the summoner's call, the Phoenix will be struck down and the Sabyl will fall. Yet, should he answer, the Twin Lights will be born anew, and their powers increased tenfold. They alone will unite the Midlands and then the Fallen and Cede shall know only despair in their wake._" And just as abruptly as she'd lost control, she blinked and shook herself.

"The Sabyl will fall?" Chris repeated urgently, running a hand through his hair.

Phoenicia gave him a sour look. "The Phoenix will be struck down," she said, narrowing her eyes at him for once again neglecting to pay attention to certain facts that addressed him. He gave her a sheepish look, though she knew he was still fretting more about the fact that she will apparently 'fall' rather than his own plight.

"How much time do we have?"

Phoenicia frowned, her mouth opening repeatedly as she tried to convey her meaning in better words. "_The Veil of Time unravels_," she repeated, sighing in agitation. Stupid prophecies, they always made a mess of everything. And the worst was, she wasn't even entirely sure what she was talking about herself—Chris was going to be upset when he learned about that little fact. "Soon," she was able to tell him. "That much I know. But soon might be hours, days or months,"

"Oh my God," Leo breathed out abruptly staring at her in awe, and Phoenicia froze suddenly as she _saw_ what was about to happen. She grimaced, knowing there was no way to stop this—she only hoped Chris would forgive Leo for what he was about to do. "You're an Oracle." he stated in a daze, realizing too late that he had spoken out loud.

The results were instantaneous and they all happened simultaneously. The sisters, being ignorant of the consequences of what he had said, stared on in confusion. Damien grimaced and whispered a quick spell to shadow their conversation and their location in hopes that he could negate what already happening. Leo stared at the young woman, entirely apologetic, as she sighed in dismay while her body was forcibly engulfed in a horrible combination of blue and white lights and an oily black substance. Leon and Chris quickly attempted to redirect the orbs as the combined separate forces of magic sought for control of the young woman. Unfortunately neither was quick enough and the blue and white drifted towards the ceiling while the black orbs retreated back down through the floor, having likewise lost the encounter.

Chris spun in place, fury evident in his every move. "You piece of shit!" he hissed, marching up to the man and pushing him back fiercely. "Are you out of your mind? She's your niece, damn it! What in the name of Ifrit were you thinking? Or were you even thinking at all?"

"Hey now," Piper said warningly, but she was cut off by Leon.

"Yes, Leo, what the hell were you thinking?" he demanded, his eyes hard.

"I… I didn't mean," Leo stammered. "It just came out…"

"Perfect," Chris growled. "Absolutely, perfect!" The temperature in the room seemed to increase just before his body dissolved into a column of blue and white lights of his own creation. The orbs floated there for a moment unmoving before he rematerialized in the exact same spot, his glare intensifying. "They've already initiated the lockdown," he said gravely. He looked at his father urgently. "Can you get in as High Elder?"

Leon closed his eyes and attempted the same feat, only to rematerialize with a solemn look on his face. "They've locked me out too. No one is allowed up or down."

Chris groaned. "And this started out as such a good day," he muttered miserably.

Paige frowned. "What's going on?" She was completely thrown by their behavior, and she wasn't the only one.

"The girl is an Oracle." Damien informed her, as if it should have explained everything.

Phoebe looked at him questioningly. "So?"

Damien regarded them, their voiced portraying their genuine confusion. He shook his head in wonderment. _These_ were the all powerful Charmed Ones? They had taken out the Source not only once but twice? These were the ones who had most demons in a panic? Seriously…? _Seriously_? He ran a hand over his bald head, sighing in amazement that they had survived this long. "She was right. You people _are_ pathetic."

Before the sister's could let their outrage be known for the comment, Leon stepped forward and gave the demon a dark look. "Enough! This isn't helping, and it's partially my fault that they're so ignorant." He said, throwing a look at his younger self. "We'll have to work on that." Leo nodded in agreement, and he turned back to the sisters. "Do you know what an Oracle is?"

Phoebe nodded. "They have premonitions, like me."

Leon closed his eyes and his face contorted. "No," he whispered, restraining himself from strangling her. It wasn't really her fault, none of their faults, that they never learned these facts. This was the same mistake he had made during his own life. He had forgotten that Penny hadn't raised them as witches. Any five year old witch who either learned by their mother's side or attended a proper school of magic knew the difference between a witch who had premonitions, a seer, or an Oracle. The fact that they, the Charmed Ones, didn't know… well honestly, it was a bit embarrassing. "_You_ are a witch. You get distorted glimpses of _one_ of the many _possible_ outcomes. You are not classified as a seer or an Oracle—you are a witch with the gift of premonition."

"And seers," Damien's gravelly voice picked up where he left off. "Have the ability to glance at the future, though it is usually just as uncertain. They can meddle by interpreting and creating prophecies that are often only fulfilled because someone heard the contents of those prophecies and decided to act on them, thus bringing them to pass. Self fulfilling prophecies are a dime a dozen."

Leon nodded sagely. "Oracles… are different, to put it lightly," he told them. "They always _see_. Every moment of every day, they _see_ the possible outcomes for everything, _everything…_ including mundane things such as what type of gum someone might buy or what pair of shoes they put on in the morning. They know everything with intimate details and are forced to see each outcome all within the tenth of a nanosecond. Not only do they _see_ but they can also influence _which_ future will come to pass. It's all very complicated but from my understanding they pick the future they want and they speak of it—a Prophecy. Not just one that might or might not happen, not even a self fulfilling one, a true Prophecy. What an Oracle says will happen, _will_ happen even if someone tries to prevent it."

"That's not all," Chris scowled as he joined in the explanation, pacing a literal hole in the floor. A small tail of smoke rose from his feet with each step but no one seemed to notice the way his shoes stuck to the floor, the soles melting to mingle with the linoleum. "There was a system set up long ago. For every Oracle, there are two sides that will compete to get her, which is why there were dark orbs fighting with the light ones earlier. Oracles and Potential Oracles are really easy to find, especially at early ages, and they are taken by either the supposed good side or the supposed evil side. It doesn't matter who the Oracle is—she will be taken no matter what the consequence. Within the two factions, there are two leaders, the rallying points for each side who ultimately has the final say in any decisions. For demons this person is called the Bringer. For our side, he is known as the High Elder."

"I am the High Elder," Leon sighed. "At least in a few years I will be, in this time my predecessor is still in command but they still have to obey my orders here. It's more than just a title—it is an enormous increase of power and responsibility. However I am the person who has the final say what happens to any Oracle or Potential. I abolished the Old Laws when I first became High Elder but here they are still in effect. These laws basically state that the Elders are allowed to kidnap and torture the Oracle and Potentials into submission."

Leon ignored their horror at his words as Chris finally stopped pacing, coming to a stop beside Damien with a vacant look on his face. He chanced a look at his younger counterpart and inwardly winched at his disillusionment—he remembered that look all too well. He recalled a time when he discovered the true nature of what happened for the so called _greater good_. The betrayal was still there, having never truly gone away. Everything he had been taught was nothing more than candy coated lies that were used to keep him ignorant of the true on goings that the Council didn't want those lower in the whitelighter hierarchy to know about. Dark, unsavory things…

"Torture…?" Leo repeated tentatively. "I thought… I…"

"Yes. Torture." Leon confirmed wearily. "Do you really think that an Oracle could willingly cooperate with their captives? When their standard protocol fails to work, as it _always_ does, they resort to violence. They torture the mind and the body, trying to break their spirits. If the gift of their Sight doesn't drive an Oracle mad, the treatment they receive will eventually. Being captured by the Bringer would probably be a kinder fate than by the Elders, because they _treasure_ Oracles." He took a deep breath before he could continue. "When a person uses the word 'Oracle' in a location where magic is known, both sides will most likely hear it, especially if there is a demon or whitelighter nearby."

"And this house is monitored more closely than most considering who you are," Chris snarled in agitation. "Not only that but it was an _Elder_ who said it!"

Leo ducked his head in shame as he was the target of many angry glares. Leon sighed. "Were actually lucky that Damien is using his powers to hide our conversation and probably our location now, otherwise we'd all be in trouble considering how many times we've said it,"

"None of that matters anyway," Chris said. "Because the Elders already have Phoenicia!"

"Can't we just summon her back?" Paige asked earnestly.

"No," Leo shook his head, his green eyes taking on the same angry look that could be found on his future counterpart. "If they have initiated a lockdown, then it means that not only is everyone down here grounded, but those who were up there are trapped as well. None of us can come or go until the Council orders it,"

Chris stared up at the ceiling calculatingly as a thought occurred to him. "Maybe not for you,"

Leon looked at his son sharply. "Chris," he said in warning. "You can't…"

The angry elemental swung around to glare at his father. "I can't _what_?" he demanded in fury, "This is Mia! She's already wet through this once… I won't let her go through it again." Every window in the house rattled in their frames and Leon wisely backed away, as did the others when heat suddenly began pouring off of the boy's body in waves. The amber tint in his eyes suddenly flickered to life, actual flames dancing in his eyes while his hair slowly began turning ruby red. Smoke rose off of him in spirals and he glared up at the ceiling. "Fucking cross-dressing know it alls…" he scowled, his clothes catching ablaze, the fire springing up around him before he disappeared with a violent burst of intense flames.

All that remained was a puddle of melted liquid that used to be the kitchen floor.

When Chris first arrived in the city of the clouds, his presence went unnoticed as all whitelighters were currently confined to their quarters for the proceedings, and he assumed the Elders were gathered in the council hall where his twin would most likely be present as well. However, as he stalked towards the Hall, each step reverberating off the soft walls loudly, his powerful aura suddenly surged forth like a raging inferno, so abrupt and intense that everyone must have felt, his powers finally unconcealed as the gradual binding Phoenicia placed on them broke in an instant. Everything in the near vicinity began to crumble into ashes, an unnatural wave of heat, thousands times hotter than even the sun, obliterating them in his anger.

With careful precision and the grace of a lethal animal which was only amplified by the rage in each step, Chris strode deliberately into the Council Hall, the door dissolving beneath the strain of the high temperature, and everyone retreated from the immense heat pouring off of his body. His eyes—which were no longer soft pools of sea green that spoke of kindness and determination; they were now fire itself, red and amber with the faintest hint of silver—sought out his cousin, his _sister_, and his rage intensified, though he managed to push it aside momentarily.

As he approached her the intense heat suddenly became a soothing warmth. Crouching down to her huddled form, Chris gently placed a hand on her shoulder. She shuddered at the touch and met his blistering gaze with her own tearstained blue and gray orbs. "Shh," he whispered lovingly, wrapping his arms around her. "I've got you, Mia. I'm taking you back,"

Foolishly, an Elder approached now that the heat had subsided. "You will do no such thing! This creature is now our property—" He cut himself off with a silent scream of pain as his body was ravaged by blazing red flames that continued to get hotter and hotter as each second passed. Chris looked on impassively as the Elder, Joed he recognized uncaringly, made frantic movements, trying to wipe the fire off of his body, to erase the pain. With each frenzied swipe he took more and more of his charred and peeling skin off, such a gruesome sight that the other Elders had to look away knowing they would be unable to stop it themselves.

Chris silently withdrew his element from the nearly dead Elder after a few short seconds that felt more like hours to everyone else. Joed fell to the floor convulsing in useless whimpers and Chris breathed deeply as he controlled himself from doing more damage to the man as he wanted to. This was nothing compared to what Phoenicia had probably gone through under their care before he arrived.

"You have no authority over me," he said softly, an undercurrent of fury that simply dared the others to object. He was positively livid but he reigned his anger as best as he could and turned his burning eyes onto Zola and Odin with a dethatched calmness. "Heal him," he commanded. The two Elders stepped forward hesitantly, holding their hands over the charred man. Nothing happened. No golden glow appeared and the poor Elder was still in a pitiful state. Chris sighed irritably and looked to the others. "All of you. It's going to take more power,"

Cautiously they all surrounded their fallen comrade and raised their hands.

A slow, very slow but steady glow finally appeared. It was a testament to how close to meeting death the man had been, and just how much power it took to override the damage done to him. The devastated skin tissue and muscle gradually began to heal. It was a grueling process that would have taken five short seconds under normal circumstances—this was by no means normal. It took well over ten minutes before the wounds began to heal and seal over. None of them could find it in them to speak of how they were unable to prevent the scarring, the terrible and horrifying scarring. It was another five minutes before the man stirred. With a painful groan, Joed rose to his feet with the help of the others, still incredibly weak and unsteady. Everyone had their eyes on Chris with fear having seen what he could do but he paid then no heed, too busy trying to comfort his twin, who, unfortunately enough for them, seemed to be _comatose_ at the moment.

"What did you do to her?" he demanded, voice as sharp and cutting as steel.

Odin stepped forward uncertainly, seeing as the rest of his peers were too afraid to. "Her… her age was unexpected," he began explaining, his voice breaking. No one wanted to invoke the fury of the young man, whom they all recognized. It seemed as if they had vastly underestimated him and now they were paying the price. "After our initial tests to confirm that she was an Oracle or at least a Potential… we followed protocol, trying to revert her back into a toddler, so we could…" he trailed off with a winch, but Chris knew what he was too afraid to say.

"So you could mold her into your little pet?" he sneered.

Flinching at the cold tone, he nodded, looking away in shame. "… In a manner of speaking."

"But it didn't work, did it?" Chris demanded with a hint of mocking seeping through. "No, the only thing you did was cause her to retreat into her own mind. Because, even with all of you combing your power, you couldn't even overcome an ounce of hers," He shifted her in his arms, trying to make her more comfortable, before he stood. She stayed in his embrace lifelessly. Fiery eyes pinned them in place. "Well let me tell you something. Phoenicia here is an elemental," he said coolly. "And for attempting what you just did, you've breached the treaty signed by Elder Gabriel and Fire Master Helicon in 957 B.C. and for that, we are well within our rights to declare war on you for this unprovoked attack on an elemental."

Every single one of them paled considerably, realizing the implications of what he was telling them. In laymen's terms—they were screwed, completely and totally and utterly screwed. The elementals held such power over everything, _magic_ and the earth accommodated them with reverence, every magical creature flocked to them. Even angels of destiny and fate catered to their whims because doing otherwise could mean devastation for everyone. And all elementals were such pure souls, souls of such greatness that they could never be tainted. They were revered by all who knew of them—even the Elders… and they had just attacked one of these precious beings.

Chris felt a grim satisfaction wash over him as they all looked decidedly sick over what they had done, and what they had attempted to do to her. _Good_, he thought vindictively at their plight. They deserved this—to understand what they had done, and to be overcome by grief and remorse for it. This was their punishment for the travesty they had suffered upon his cousin, and a very fitting one at that. The knowledge and fear of the eternal consequence of what they had done would forever tarnish their souls, would haunt their dreams. Magic herself would not offer them reprieve of it.

Joed whimpered again while a blond woman stepped forward earnestly. "Please… this was a mis—"

"A misunderstanding?" Chris queried cruelly as he cut her off. "A _mistake_?" She flinched but stood her ground and Chris fought the sudden urge to kill her where she stood. "What makes you think you have the right to dictate an Oracle's life? They're still sentient beings. Magic gifted them with Sight for reasons only they probably know but who are _you_ to play God and force them to your will? Who are _you_ to dictate anyone's life? You constantly preach all of this _good_ against _evil_ bullshit and yet you contradict yourselves at every turn. You should be more cautious of condemning something you know nothing about because it will most likely come to bite you in the ass later."

"It's all for the greater good," she tried to explain, but Chris wouldn't have it. He'd heard that speech before.

"The good of all for the price of one?" he snarled angrily, shaking his head when she nodded. "You're all hypocrites! There is no good or evil, those are just oversimplifications that simpletons use to justify their actions even if they're morally wrong. You're attempting to impose your own skewered sense of morality where it has no place," he told her, though honestly he was speaking to all of them. He calmed briefly as Phoenicia tightened her hand around the bunched up and burnt remains of his shirt. "There is no black and white, no good and evil. There is only power and intent. If you consider demons evil for killing and maiming, you should really take a look in the mirror. Your own actions here today are, by your rules, by your definitions… evil."

The woman stared at him as if she'd been physically struck. "That's not—"

"Enough," he said tersely, the quiet voice carrying a more deadly edge than any shout would have, his hair suddenly catching on fire, tresses dangerous and flickering flames. "I've grown tired of this conversation," All he wanted to do was take Phoenicia home, where it was safe. And he would _ensure_ that it wassafe_._ "Know this—I will be contacting the _Illuminati_. There _will_ be retribution for this grievance in the near future." There was no objection and Chris nodded his approval. "You will remove the lockdown now, and you will avoid all contact with the Halliwell family or anyone associated to them unless they contact you first. You will not use outside sources to try to establish contact. You will not attempt to enter any of their properties or anywhere you know they can be found, such as work or a friend's home. If you violate any of these terms, your lives are forfeit and you will find yourself in an endless void for the rest of your unnatural lives. Do you understand me?"

"Yes," Odin croaked, and no one challenged him on it. They were all in accord, unwilling to bring the impending wrath of the already infuriated man down upon them once more. "We understand perfectly."

Chris studied them each intently, secretly pleased to find that they were all positively terrified of him. "Oh," he added offhandedly, sending a particularly vicious look at the one who had called his sister a _creature_, as if she were something nasty that needed to be exterminated. "And I want Joed's soul recycled." The Elder lowered his head, resigned to the fate he'd brought upon himself. Chris allowed the inferno inside of him to fade, his hair and his eyes returning to their normal, dormant state. Honestly he was pleased and applauded himself for his restraint and not killing every single one of them outright for what they had done like he wanted to.

The young man tightened his grip of the immobile girl in his arms as they dissolved into calming blue and white lights, the soft jingle signaling their disappearance. They appeared in Phoebe's room, and Chris laid her down on the bed, taking care to arrange her beneath the covers. He collapsed on the bed beside her with a tired sigh. He could still feel his blood boiling beneath his skin but he forcibly urged himself to calm down and not let his powers rule over him. He was stronger than this, and he closed his eyes, concentrating on his breathing and the bond he shared with his twin. When he was able to think clearly, her turned his head to look at her.

"… Mia?"

Reacting to her name, she turned to look at him with blank eyes. "Chrissie?"

Chris visibly recoiled from her, recognizing _that _tone with the force of a knife being shoved brutally into his chest and twisted. His heart was breaking again. She was gone… again. Back was the dazed shell of a girl and gone was the playful and annoying little brat of a kid sister she truly was. He had regained her and lost her all within a few short hours. It took a sheer force of will and his need to be with her now not to go back up there and officially declare war on them. Because he wouldn't leave her like this, he refused to.

With a sad, heartbreaking sigh, he pulled her close and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "It's okay, Mia," he whispered to her. "Everything will be fine tomorrow. You'll see. Go ahead and rest now…"

"… mm'kay," she agreed mindlessly, snuggling into his chest.

Chris barely even noticed the tear that slipped down his own cheek.

**End  
Chapter**

This chapter took me much longer than I anticipated, especially since I kept doing it in small sections. I am sad to say that when I went to edit it, it was all over the place, all discombobulated, because I would write a little here and there in my spare time, and by the time I would get back to working on it I had lost my train of thought. So today, or yesterday according to my clock, I sat down and opened a new word document, placing the two side by side and rewrote it all completely. I edited out things I didn't like and added to some sections, but mainly I redid it so that it flowed together better than just a bunch of random clips. And now it is 3:08a.m. and I've reread through it once to make sure there were no major mistakes, though I'm sure there's a bunch of little ones that I missed since I'm dozing off at my desk at the moment—I would appreciate it if you guys wouldn't mind informing me of any typos or other mistakes. Again I cannot apologize enough for taking so long with this. Hopefully it was worth the wait.

All my best,  
—Lynx


	9. The Missive

**Finding Yourself  
**_The Missive_

**Thursday, November 26****th****, 2020  
**Dark, seemingly soulless black eyes roamed the decaying city with an untold emotion. Long wisps of wavy hair whipped around his face in the polluted wind. Somewhere in the distance he could hear the earsplitting screaming of desperate people, the repeated gunfire and frequent thunderous explosions. He paid it all no mind. His thoughts were currently centered on the scrap of paper he held in his hand. A scrap of paper that had thrown his not quite harmonious world into even more chaos—he was not sure if he should be pleased or not by the contents.

He had never been particularly fond of Luke, and he was under no grand illusions that the other man was fond of him at all either. To be honest their personalities were so alike, too similar that they tended to clash when confronted with each other, and made it difficult to work together when they had no other choice but to. They both steadfastly attempted to avoid such encounters. However it seemed as if they had been forced to work together countless times in the past few months and both of them were none too happy about that. But he knew that he could count on the other man to watch his back and to protect the things they both coveted, and the reverse was also true for him.

They may not exactly be fond of each other but they would both protect the other at the expense of their own lives if needed, because there was nothing more important to either of them than family. Particularly their younger siblings, who always managed to get themselves into trouble no matter how much he and Luke tried to prevent it. Given the strong connection, the _soul bond_ between the two youngest, both the elder brothers had an investment in keeping the both of them as safe as humanly and demonly and magically possibly. Should something… unsavory happen to one, chances were it would affect the other, and heaven forbid that one should die because it would essentially mean losing them both. So when he received a message from Luke after their latest rescue attempt, he wasn't quite sure how he should react to it.

_Broke into the facility.  
Reports say she escaped._

_L._

It was was brisk, short and to the point as all of their conversations and missives were, because they were both very powerful heads of separate empires, each constantly managing their own respective factions, and they had no time for trivialities such as simple greetings or well wishes. It was an arrangement that worked well for them usually because they didn't _converse_ exactly; they simply exchanged mutually beneficial information. However in this one instance, he wished Luke had gone into more detail than he had, because he was positively burning with questions. He knew how he _should_ feel—elated and relieved and every other positive emotion in between that his sweet, beloved cousin was no longer a captive.

Instead he felt even more unease.

This little eight word note inspired in him more and more questions that he had no answers to, and it wasn't just the fate of little Phoenicia that plagued his mind. Her twin, the illusive Christopher, had also been in the forefront as of late. When he had finally located his younger brother, he had felt such a profound relief that he was safe, in a world where he wouldn't be hunted and branded like an animal, though after he knew of his location of course he made the attempt of bringing him back. Chris would be better protected under his care after all. Unfortunately that had resulted in a fiasco better left unsaid, especially since in his anger he had reacted with violence against his little brother when reason wasn't enough. It wasn't a total loss, however, and at least he knew where, or rather_ when_, his brother was. It gave him some piece of mind on that small factor, at least.

Responsibility for Phoenicia's unfortunate capture, however, was still haunting him, for she had been caught while attempting to rescue his own pathetic half life. He and Luke had been taking turns daily, sending out large regiments of each of their respective armies to create havoc and chaos for the pitiful mortals, seeing as destruction was the only way to truly get their attention. It was a plan that had been working flawlessly for the past month, with each attack they were thinning out the opposition and there was no calvary arriving for the mortals because of the clever magicians under he and Luke's command had ensured that the area would be secure from anyone non-magical. With each attack they were closer and closer to gaining access to the facility that house so many magical people that they used each day to test new chemical weapons and torture devices on.

And today they had finally achieved their goal—the facility was now under their control and once they had everyone evacuated, that is to say, once they had all of the witches and demons and magical creatures evacuated, they planned to level the place so it couldn't be used again—the doctors and inventors and soldiers, however, would not meet a kind fate. However if neither he nor Luke had been the ones to free the young woman from captivity, it did arouse the question… who the hell did? Had she escaped on her own? If she had, why hadn't she contacted them? Would she even be able to contact them, or was her mind too far gone? He folded the note before he ripped it apart for causing such turmoil, inky black pools rising to stare out at the decaying city pensively as he tried to solve this puzzle.

Unknown to the brooding man, the other half of his soul's manifestation, whom was hidden deep within the Stronghold known as New Avalon, was uncharacteristically somber. His thoughts too centered on a very similar note he had received via their mutual acquaintance. He paced the length of the high tower that overlooked the vast underwater city, abusing his bottom lip while he was deep in thought. He was relieved that his little cousin was no longer trapped within some laboratory to be poked and prodded, though it did provoke a lot of questions, and he only had one answer though even it was incomplete.

The wards had informed him—_belatedly_ he would add in annoyance, sending a baleful glare up to the raging ball of magical energy that provided light for the city—that his cousin had appeared in this very tower not days ago. That she had been coherent enough to greet their unintentional but brilliant creation and that she had been the cause of what the citizens of New Avalon had taken to called _the_ _great flash_. If she truly was the one who had caused such a blinding light throughout the entire city, and really he did not doubt that she was, then what exactly had she done to cause such a thing? And where was she now?

However even that was only part of the question for she was not the only one he cared about who had managed to disappear off the face of the earth. A few months ago his little brother had managed to come back from the brink of a dark depression and within days he had vanished without a word, without a _trace_. Needless to say he had caused quite the panic to everyone, especially his older brother, because to the people of this Stronghold and even those outside of it, Christopher Halliwell was their salvation. And for him to disappear in such a way that no one could find him, it had everyone scared and on edge, just waiting for something devastating to happen.

And he himself only knew of a handful of people that could possibly know his brother's whereabouts, and out of them all only one remained so that he might question him on it. Out of the other two, Phoenicia had been in captivity at the time of Chris' disappearance and now she too was gone, so there was little to no chance of questioning her about it. Even if he could, he'd probably only receive a riddle only Chris himself could answer. And Bianca… well she was likewise off the radar to every side and every ally that he had. And honestly, if his counterpart knew where their brother was, he obviously wasn't willing to share the information with him despite the fact that they were essentially the same person.

It wasn't as if he could exactly go looking for any of them personally, either. He had been entrusted with the responsibility of keeping the wards of the underwater city functioning properly, and he intended to make sure that the lives of the people under his protection were paramount despite any misgivings he felt about not being able to protect his family at the same time. He would do his duty and keep the city safe for as long as he had to. He only prayed that his counterpart had no such commitments and that he would do something to rectify this situation, because worrying about his sibling and his cousin was beginning to stress him out.

And, he consoled himself, if that black eyed son of a bitch wouldn't do something to ensure that Chris and Phoenicia were safe, then _he_ would gladly hand over the wards to him while he found a way to find the troublesome duo.

**End  
Chapter**

O.o  
I do believe this is the shortest chapter I've ever written. How odd is that? Normally once I get going there is no stopping me until I get it all out but this just wanted to stop here. This was actually a deleted scene from the previous chapter because it felt out of place there, and it wouldn't work right in the next chapter. But I couldn't just leave it out completely because it is kind of a catalyst for what happens in future chapters… so I gave it a page all to itself!


	10. The Proposal

**Finding Yourself  
**_The Proposal_

**Wednesday, November 26****th****, 2003  
**There was an offensive odor lingering in the kitchen, strongest where the floorboards where visible through the melted layers of linoleum. The dark haired woman glared helplessly at the offending area, her nose wrinkled in disgust—the smell reminded her of when a tupperware lid had gotten stuck beneath the heater in the dishwasher, which had left a likewise unpleasant smell that had lasted for days. She had already sprayed a fragrant aerosol spray to mask the scent but it had only lasted for a few moments. She had even tried to remove the cause of the smell by using a spell to make the hole in her floor disappear… unfortunately it hadn't had the desired effect.

Piper had decided the moment he had erupted into a burst of blazing hot fire that the fault for her ruined floor rested with the blasted halfbreed whitelighter, Chris Perry. If he hadn't used whatever demonic powers he _clearly_ possessed, then she wouldn't be standing here trying to figure out how to remove the outcome of said powers—and Piper fully intended to call him on it once he returned because she honestly couldn't wait to see what kind of excuse he would pull out of his ass for having demonic powers.

Dark brown eyes slid over to the bald man Chris had brought with him into her home. She had recognized him from the _Book of Shadows_ the moment she laid eyes on him, and had acted accordingly though she couldn't remember what the page on him said exactly. It didn't matter, really, because he was a _demon_. Chris had even admitted it during their little discussion earlier. The only thing that was keeping her from unleashing her wrath on him as a way to relieve herself of some of the pent up anger she felt, was that Leon and Leo were both standing very close to him, speaking in low tones that she had long since given up trying to decipher.

Piper was momentarily distracted from her glare when her younger sister paced in front of her yet again, muttering under her breath in a combination of agitation and worry. "There're still not back yet," Phoebe was saying. Piper could not blame her sister for feeling this way, really. If it were her future daughter—or son in her case—she would be concerned also. And she was, to some extent, worried about her future niece.

However it was a bit difficult to care about someone you didn't know, especially since they seemed to have no intention of allowing you to know them. Piper was _still_ having a difficult time digesting that Phoenicia apparently hated them no matter which state of mind she was in. She knew Phoebe had gone through a stage of rebellion where she pretended as if she hated Grams but Phoenicia seemed genuine in her feelings. What could they have possibly done to warrant such emotions from their own flesh and blood? It just didn't seem right to her. And she wasn't sure she liked the fact that Chris seemed to be close to her niece and her husband—_ex-husband_, the unhelpful part of her brain just had to supply.

With a heavy self reproving sigh, Piper had to concede that she couldn't blame everything on the young man, no matter how much she wanted to. It wasn't his fault that he seemed to have earned Phoenicia and Leon's loyalty for God only knows what reason. And if she were honest with herself, he genuinely seemed to care about her niece and she had noticed that he seemed to hold Leon in high regard if the questioning glances he had been giving the older man were anything to go by, as if he were trying to gain approval or permission.

_Kind of how a child would seek approval from their parent_… she dismissed that thought immediately though.

"They should be back by now," Phoebe said, continuing to pace restlessly while she chewed on her nails. "Right?"

Piper sighed and attempted to give her younger sibling a comforting look. "Honey," she said soothingly. "Time works differently up there, remember? Only moments have passed for them," However her words had the opposite of her desired effect, and she only managed to make Phoebe even more upset.

"But you were gone for months," Phoebe cried, her eyes wide in dismay. "I can't wait that long without knowing anything!"

"Actually," Leon cut in, his voice tight, looking at his sister-in-law steadily. "When a lockdown is initiated they reverse the _time delay_ magic so that more time can pass up there and less time will pass down here. They do it that way so they can test to see if they have the right person, and if they don't, they can go through each person who was in the room one by one until they do. The test takes about ten hours, and it's already been twenty minutes. They've already had her there for almost a whole day."

Leon wasn't trying to pacify her, or comfort her even. He was telling them the grim truth and they all understood that fact. He wasn't saying that they would be back soon—he was telling them that for Chris and Phoenicia it could be days for them, and the effects more damaging. No one spoke for the longest time, each all caught up in their own apprehensive thoughts. And suddenly both Leo and Leon glanced towards the ceiling in surprise as they felt the lockdown unfurl itself from their ability to travel, and the sudden presence of two distinct magical signatures appearing up stairs.

"There're here," Leo explained shortly.

Phoebe let out a relieved sigh, smiling. "Thank God,"

Leon intercepted her when she made for the stairs. "No, Phoebe," he said quietly, holding out a hand to quell her protests. He shook his head. "Don't. If you go up there you have the risk of being turned into a cinder block. Chris won't allow anything near her for a while if she is in a similar state as she was the first time this happened. They are going to be on the defense no matter who you are. Friend or foe, it doesn't matter. Let him have a moment with her, and let them come to us."

"But—"

"I know you're worried. I am too," he admitted. "But it's best to let them work it out together. They'll come to us when they're ready."

"Why?" Paige asked, though her voice was more curious than it was condemning. "Wouldn't it be better for other people to talk to them about what happened? I mean, I know we don't _know_ what happened, but Phoebe is a psychology major and I've had to take some courses when I was a social worker… aren't we suited to deal their emotional state? Wouldn't we be able to help them?"

"No, Paige, you would just make it worse," he told her, though he appreciated her effort. It didn't escape him that she had said '_their_ emotional state' instead of just 'her'. She was including Chris in this, obviously knowing that this situation would have a great emotional impact on him as well. He smiled at her. "Chris and Phoenicia share a very close and special bond. If you were to try and get between them in any way right now, I can guarantee that you wouldn't live to regret it. The bond they share is also very fragile at the moment,"

Phoebe's eyes bulged, and her voice took on a very high octave. "Wait… are they married?"

Piper stared at her incredulously, finding the mere idea to be ridiculous, but even she looked to Leon, desperate for him to either deny or admit it. Paige merely blanched, finding the image of the two together to be highly disturbing for some reason. And Leo himself choked on air, recalling his previous thoughts on the subject, realizing just how ludicrous the notion really was now that he knew the truth.

"When I say bond, I mean a literal bond that binds their souls together," Leon rolled his eyes, quickly elaborating before they took that out of context as well. "There are several different forms of a soul bond. The one you are referring to, a marriage bond is usually entered during certain types of weddings or a hand fastening. This is typically only a true bond if the indented are soulmates. It is rare but not unheard of. However the type of bond that Chris and Phoenicia share is a twin bond. No," he interrupted before the girls even had a chance to open their mouths. "This does not mean they are brother and sister in the traditional sense. Astral twins are siblings, yes, however they each have their own set of biological parents."

"… So he's not my son?"

"No!" Leon grimaced, horrified by the thought. "He's really not."

Piper gave him a weary look. "Then what _are_ you saying?"

"Astral twins are born at exactly the same moment in time, down to the last second," Leon explained to them. "They share souls. Normally it is said that their souls are separated as they take their first breaths, and that they exchange that half, therefore irrevocably boding the two of them together. Biologic twins usually experience this phenomenon as well. With this exchange they can sense each other's thoughts, their emotions, and it is said that some twins can even share certain powers through their bond. Astral twins experience this on a much deeper level. Understand?"

Phoebe frowned slightly, nodding her head. "I think so…"

"I… I think I get it," Paige said. "Does that mean… that we knew, or will know… Chris?"

"What?" Piper frowned. "No, no we didn't know him. Don't be—"

Paige cut her off with a glare. "As I was saying," she said. "The mothers consider these children theirs, right? Even the one that doesn't belong to them biologically, because of the bond they share?" She waited until Leon nodded before continuing. "Well, wouldn't that mean… that Phoebe _thought_ of Chris like a son? And that he was around us a lot… I mean," Her eyes widened in excitement as she realized what she was saying. "It would explain how he knew his way around the house when he arrived, like he had been here before, because he _would_ have been here, just in the future. He was around us all the time." she concluded proudly.

Chris was going to kill him, Leon knew. After everything that boy had done, _was_ doing to conceal his identity, and Leon had just pointed them in the right direction. Although, he couldn't say that he was worried or even ashamed that he had revealed as much. The way he saw it, the closer they were to the truth, the closer Chris was to healing, and most importantly, _being born. _

All were silent when the young man in question shuffled into the room. He looked terrible, and pitiful, and Leon just wanted to wrap his son up into his arms and never let him go. He resisted of course, knowing it would be unappreciated. When Chris looked up, there was evidence of tears in his eyes, the slight reddening and puffiness visible, as well as his prior rage in the iridescent golden gleam to his irises.

"Damien," he said quietly, his voice a bit hoarse. He cleared his throat. "Could you please go back to the cave and bring me the small box of phials with the rest of the potion? Please?" He watched with gratefulness as the enormous bald man seemingly vanished into the shadows, going to do as he asked. Chris released a heavy breath and looked around the room, noting the speculative stares with one of his own. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "She had a bit of a relapse…but I think she'll be okay,"

Phoebe smiled slightly. "Thank God,"

Chris responded with a solemn nod. "I'll have to wait until she wakes up to be completely sure, and we may have to give her the potion every day, like a medication. But she should be okay."

Leon placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, squeezing slightly. He was about to offer some words, something, anything that might help make his son feel better, but Damien chose that moment to reappear with the items Chris had asked for. Chris excused the two of them and he and Damien moved into the parlor so they could speak privately for a moment.

"Don't,' Leon cautioned to Piper as she edged towards the door to eavesdrop.

"Why not?" she huffed.

"Because," Leo answered for him. "Trust works both ways."

Although Piper seemed unsure she stepped away from the door, opting to sit down beside Paige instead. When Chris came back he was alone, and Leon guessed that he'd asked Damien to go home because everyone was already edgy, and the girls were already just itching to get rid of the shadow demon. Chris stopped in the center of the room, his hands balled into tight fists at his side. He released a long breath and flexed his fingers, looking up slowly.

"What happened?" Leon frowned at him in concern. "What did you do?"

The young man stiffened, his voice taking on a hard edge. "Nothing more than they deserved." he said tightly, not offering any more of an explanation than that, his eyes daring any of them to contradict him. No one said a word, staring at him warily until he seemed to calm down. "… Before this," Chris gestured helplessly, wincing at the sight of the melted linoleum. "This happened... Phoenicia and I were discussing something… something important."

"The prophecy she made?"

"Partly," Chris admitted. "She was already planning this without me, but her prophecy is what made me agree. I wouldn't have even considered, because it will be taking such a large risk…" He shook his head, running his fingers through his hair anxiously. "We're making Wyatt…. his situation a second priority."

Piper's voice was cold when she spoke over the silence. "You're doing what?"

Chris grimaced, crossing his arm defensively over his chest. "We're not going to _stop_ looking for whatever or whoever… does that to him," he said delicately. "It's just… his situation seems doesn't seem as important as something else. He's still alive in the future, I mean, sure, he's a great big pain in the ass, and he doesn't really have a conscience, but he isn't really a huge threat…"

"I don't get it," Paige frowned. "You said Wyatt was the only reason you were in the past."

Chris looked at her, wondering how he could explain this. He would have to be very careful in choosing his words lest he say something damning. "He was," he agreed. "Wyatt is probably the only one who can solve all our problems, and… and I guess I was just hoping that by changing his fate, it would change everything." Of course, that wasn't completely true. Chris would have been content if all he got was his big brother back. They could have figured out another way to save the world. "But Phoenicia… she reminded me of a few things."

Leon felt a sense of dread as he read the tone of voice. "Chris… what were you two planning?"

Licking his lips hesitantly, Chris tried to gather his courage. He had been counting on Phoenicia to be the one to do the explaining but she said that they had to tell them soon, because the next few days were critical. He wasn't sure why exactly, though he had not questioned her judgment. And, if he were honest with himself, she was right that he had to be more honest with them if he wanted to earn their trust back. Not that he would ever tell her that—she probably knew already anyway.

"Our plan is to expose magic—"

Of course, their reactions were to be expected.

Phoebe choked on air. "Excuse me?"

"You can't!" Leo protested.

"Are you crazy?" Paige asked in disbelief.

"Do you know how hard we have worked to prevent exposure?" demanded Piper.

A muscle in his jaw twitched irritably as he waited for them to calm down. "Are you quite finished?" he asked tersely, arching an eyebrow airily. He was faced with several affronted looks at his tone, though he was pleased to see that his father seemed to understand. It eased his spirits to know that he had Leon's approval. "As I was saying, our plan is to expose magic. Not to everyone, at least… not _yet_. This process with probably take decades before magic is a common place again…. but exposure is inevitable."

Leo shook his head. "No it's not,"

"Will you at least let me finish?" Chris sighed. "It is inevitable, and even if you won't admit it, somewhere deep inside, you know it's true. Magic wasn't meant to be hidden or… or confined like this. It attempts to break free as much as possible, and all you and everyone else have been doing is postponing it. The thing is… you've been under the misconception that all magic is, is energy that you can harness." He met everyone's eye. "It's not. It's sentient, it's… alive. And the taboos placed on magic by the Tribunal are making it very, very angry and it wants to be free, and it _will _break free from the confinements placed on it… in roughly fourteen years. And nothing anyone will do will be able to stop it."

"What taboos?" Phoebe asked.

Surprisingly, Paige was the one to answer. "He's talking about personal gain,"

Chris smiled. "That's right. The personal gain laws restrict magical people from using their full potential. Granted, there are some spells that should never be used, some spells that are too dangerous, but most of the so called personal gain spells are harmless. The only reason that they are controlled at such a great degree is because the Tribunal wants it that way."

"And what, exactly, is the Tribunal?"

"It's who the Elder's answer to," Leo told her.

Leon nodded in confirmation. "The Tribunal is formed of three former Elders, and three upper class demons that came together thousands of years ago," he explained easily, making it obvious that he was well versed in this particular subject. "They believed that _they_ were the ultimate power, and thus should be the ones do decide what was acceptable and what wasn't. But, as you all know, absolute power corrupts absolutely. In their arrogance, they created the laws to restrict witches and demons who they felt could overpower them, so that they could never tap into their full potential. Eventually, their laws spread throughout the magical community, and to enforce it they began to monitor magic levels and if anyone broke their laws, they would cause consequences…"

Phoebe shook her head. "Good and evil working together to control people…? That didn't work out so great the last time they tried it. Demons can't be trusted,"

"It wasn't the demons who suggested the laws," Chris said coolly, narrowing his eyes at her. "Contrary to popular belief, Phoebe, demons are all born neutral, just as all humans are. What they become is based on society and their environment. Isn't that what you were all fighting about the other day?"

Paige nodded. "Nature verses nurture."

"Then why is it every demon we've ever met has tried to kill us?" Piper asked dryly.

"… As I said, some magic should never be used," Chris said, shivering against the sudden chill down his spine as he began speaking. "The Tribunal, however, has no regard for the sanctity of life. They don't care if they… destroy something incredibly precious. So they decided to use ancient magic, _forbidden_ magic. Magic that reaches into someone and… rips their soul out." He swallowed thickly. "Demons, witches and mortals alike, they began removing the souls of innocents. Sometimes they kept the souls, others they just destroyed them. That is what true evil is. To knowingly _destroy_ another person so completely, so utterly… that they cease to exist…"

Leon gave up on keeping pretenses and placed an arm over his son's shoulder, drawing him close. "They didn't anticipate that magic would be targeted by mortals for the way people began changing, and that is what caused the accord to keep magic a secret… a veil of secrecy, of sorts. Mortals on one side and the magical on the other."

"I've never heard anything like that," Leo admitted softly.

Chris smiled bitterly. "That's because they're good at keeping secrets," he said. "No one really knew, for the longest time, until magic was finally revealed. They screwed up, and the Illuminati discovered what they had done but before they could act… the Tribunal just kind of… _disappeared_. Anyway, the reason you haven't met many… nice demons is because the majority of them live in hiding, along with most of the magical population. Technically, they live in the Underworld, or at least a part of it. You've probably never seen the Midlands, have you?" He didn't seem very surprised when they all shook their heads. "What have you seen?"

"The Underworld," Paige answered.

"… and the Wastelands," Phoebe added.

Piper sighed. "Limbo,"

Chris nodded thoughtfully. "Okay. The Underworld is made up of different sections. You've seen only one of those sections, the maze of caves where some of the… more unsavory demons and witches live, so it's no mystery there why you haven't met many of the nice ones. At the very bottom of the Underworld is the closest to Hell you can get without actually dying. There is no real name for it, though that is where the darkest of souls live. From there is Purgatory, a prison of sorts for some of the most dangerous, though not necessarily bad people."

"Anyone who could potentially overpower the Tribunal, basically," Leon said dryly. "And you already know what the Wastelands are. A kind of in between of life and death for demons, and then there is what you know to be the Underworld, which is where all of the soulless demons and witches live." He gave Chris a cursory glance. "Those who have had their souls stolen are usually called the Cede, or the Fallen among the general populations."

"Only the ones with some form of teleportation can escape that plane, otherwise they have to travel through the gateways, which are extremely dangerous. But the Midlands are a different place altogether. This, where we are now," Chris gestured around them. "This is considered the Uplands, which probably makes this kind of confusing, but the Midlands connected both to the Underworld and here. It's where the most concentration of magical people live, hundreds of thousands all interwoven. They live there peacefully, and stay within their own hidden community away from everyone else. Most don't leave… and very few ever go there."

"The Tribunal only controls one tenth of the magical population," Leon told them. "The Midlands are neutral territory and, since it's so secluded, they are not under their control. Since you're under the… jurisdiction, I suppose you could say, of the Elders, you are all pawns in the game that the Tribunal likes to play. But they have been playing this game for too long."

Chris rubbed his face tiredly. "And magic doesn't like it. It's been fighting back for centuries, and though it has broken the hold on it several times, someone always changes it back, such as the Cleaners, or the Elders… or you," His gave them all a slightly apologetic look. "It didn't matter though. Magic was tired of fighting back… so it destroyed the Tribunal. Completely _obliterated_ them, and it ended their reign, but it happened too suddenly for anyone to prepare for it, and anyone reading poems or making wishes out loud were unknowingly casting spells. Children would be reading books, and suddenly their stories came to life. Usually only spells with a clear intent work, but magic found any excuse to be used properly after being controlled so long."

"So how is what you plan to do any different?" Piper asked her voice no longer condemning on the subject.

"Because we're going to free magic voluntarily," Chris replied hesitantly. "Instead of fighting for its freedom, we will be giving it away. And it won't be sudden, not like before. We have to do it gradually, a casual spell for snow in the summer time, a better one to advert a natural disaster… we will be careful. And we have to speak with the leaders of the world, to prevent the backlash that happened last time. Our true problem was with the mortals…"

Leon nodded his agreement. "People have heard so many stories about magic, that they allowed what they've read and seen in movies to brainwash their own opinions. It was hysteria," he said solemnly. "People went around accusing their neighbors, anyone who was different, who wore their hair a certain way or color, or who dressed in dark colors, were the first to burn. Individuality quickly became something to fear. Vigilantes acted before the government could, hunting us and killing us… and when we retaliated, we became the enemies."

"That's why we need to speak with everyone in charge, like a world summit," Paige guessed. "To establish some sort of common ground, some order before the rest of the world can know about it."

"Exactly," Chris said proudly, pleased that they seemed to be understanding. Perhaps there was some hope for them yet. "It won't be easy, and we shouldn't expect it to be. There are several things we have to do before we can even meet with anyone, such as remove quite a few people from the equation, key figures who will attempt to create the Trials. As long as we can keep them out of the way, it shouldn't be a problem."

"You mean… kill them?" Phoebe asked hesitantly.

"No," Chris denied, and then amended, "Not exactly. We just need them out of the way for a while, say, possibly, a couple hundred years until magic is common. Phoenicia suggested Purgatory," he added with a smirk. "But it would be cruel to their families to just remove them. I thought we could modify their memories, or take away their ability to even speak of magic, let alone cause a panic over it. There was only a small portion of the world who refused to accept us… and even though the circumstances are different, hopefully people will be accepting. It won't be like where we're from, where we were forced to cooperate or die. But, I hope our chances will be better…"

They all stood in silence for a moment or two, attempting to absorb everything. It was just so much to take in, especially since what Chris was proposing was something they have tried so hard to protect. How could they be expected to say anything after that? What could they say? So many people had apparently suffered because of this reveal in the future… could they really be a part of something that was trying to actually _make_ it happen?

Phoebe stared at Chris for a long moment, assessing not only his sincerity but his determination. She knew he was telling the truth, about all of it. And she was also absolutely certain that he would achieve his goal, whether he had their approval or assistance or not. She wondered if she should feel scared, that he seemed to be changing everything so suddenly, sweeping her feet out from beneath her. Instead, she wanted to help him. God help her, but she had no doubts after seeing… _something_ in his eyes, that he would probably be the one to save their futures.

That he could change the world.

"Chris," she said softly, drawing eyes to her. "You said something a while ago that caught my attention," He tilted his head curiously, waiting for her to continue. "… You said that there are hundreds of thousands… living in the Midlands. How many of us are there? How many lives will be affected by what you want to do?"

Chris stared at her steadily. "We make up a total of twenty percent of the world's population."

"That's impossible," Piper denied, looking to her ex-husband to agree with her.

"Millions…" Phoebe breathed. "Possibly even billions,"

Paige stared at him with wide eyes. "How could there be that many?"

Given them an uncharacteristic smile in sympathy, Chris shook his head. "You have to understand… there are whole countries, continents even which only those of the magical world know about." he said, almost laughing aloud at their accompanying looks of disbelief. "Do you remember Valhalla? It's there, sitting in the middle of the ocean, and yet it doesn't show up on any maps, does it? Or what about Atlantis? It not really a lost continent, just hidden beneath the sea where only we can find it. Avalon? It is somewhere between Britannia and Rome. Olympus? Ever see the mountains of Greece? They're _all_ there, just hidden. There are thousands of places like this, all protected. There are even whole schools dedicated to the study of magic, one right here in California in fact. It's called the Firebird Academy, and the current headmaster is the Elder, Gideon."

Leon smiled at them kindly. "I can't remember why I never told you this," he said softly. "I guess somewhere along the way, I forgot that Penny didn't raise you three as witches. This is usually common knowledge, things to be learned at the hand of your family or in school. All witches are supposed to be taught for their own safety, unless their powers are bound… which yours were. Something we are going to rectify soon,"

"You already have a good foundation," Chris admitted with reluctance. "You're very proficient in potions. You know most of your roots and herbs, which are not only essential in potions, but in certain spells. And you're decent enough at the actual spell work. You just lack knowledge on common things that people never thought to inform you of… such as the difference between Seers and… _you know._ Phoenicia. And your powers… you have good basic control but you need to be able, and most of all, _willing_ to tap into your full potential. This is why we need to travel to the Midlands, to Desair Atei. There, we can remove the personal gain tags on your magic without alerting the Tribunal."

"Excuse me," Piper spoke up, standing stiffly from her chair, and glancing at her sisters. "Before you make plans for us, just remember that we have lives here. What makes you think we can leave? What makes you think that we want to? You can't just tell us to go to some strange magical place and expect us to do it."

Chris stared at the woman who would one day become his mother, almost glaring at her when Phoebe and Paige nodded their agreement. He huffed inaudibly when they all looked at him questioningly. "Look, I know this is a lot to take in," he said, running a hand through his hair. "And I really don't want to discuss this anymore today. Thanksgiving is tomorrow, and we're all high strung right now… so we can talk about it in a few days, once you've all had time to absorb everything and talk to each other."

"That sounds reasonable," Piper admitted her eyes widening as she realized she had completely forgotten about Thanksgiving, let alone dinner. She had to get to the store! She could whip up some green bean casserole and some dressing but she didn't have any ham or turkey for the main course! She was drawn back into the still ongoing conversation a second later, as Chris began speaking again.

"Just know this… we _can_ do this without you," he said evenly, making sure the three of them understood that. "You don't have to help us. We can do it… but that doesn't mean we want to," he finished in a whisper, shifting uncomfortably in place. He hadn't meant to say that last part, no matter how true it was. He would prefer it if he had the support of his family. "I… I'll be upstairs."

Leon watched the retreating blue and white lights with a worried look. He hated this. His son was in pain, emotional pain, yes, but sometimes that could be just as bad as physical pain. And he wasn't sure how to help Chris, or even if he would appreciate his help. Chris had always gone to Wyatt first when something was happening or when he was hurting—his first crush, his first kiss, his loss of Mia when they were younger, their mother's death… everything. Leon just had no idea how to handle this.

"Go," Leo said in low tones so they wouldn't be overheard by the girls, smiling at him in understanding. "He needs you."

The older man frowned at him. "How can you be so sure?"

Leo's smile only widened. "Because you're his father, and he loves you."

**End  
Chapter**

… Long time no see? Truly sorry about that, I just had a bit of trouble with this chapter for some reason, but here it is. I'm still not happy with it but I figure I've left you waiting long enough. The other half of it will be out later this afternoon or some time tonight.

Lynx


	11. The Past

**Finding Yourself  
**_The Past_

**Friday, November 27****th****, 2020  
**The young man stood upon the structure that was once the majestic Golden Gate Bridge. The crumbled remains were now a divide between the mortal scourge and his Empire. He had always hated it up here. This place… this was his brother's sanctuary not his. He tended to avoid coming up here, especially since it was not behind the wards he cast to protect his half of the city… except for lately. Over the past few weeks, this tower had become increasingly more acquainted to him. He found himself coming here without realizing it. Dark eyes stared down at the murky water below, his brow furrowed in deep thought. He crossed his arms over his muscular chest, shoulders tensing when a presence suddenly appeared behind him, though he calmed rather quickly as he heard a familiar voice begin cursing as the newcomer almost fell to the rocky depths below.

"Isaac," he greeted evenly.

"Damn it, Wy," the other man hissed, stumbling backwards. He peered over the edge nervously, releasing a breath of relief when he finally regained his equilibrium. "Is there a particular reason you keep coming up here, instead of keeping your feet planted on the nice, safe ground like a sane person?" He inched closer to his friend, keeping a wary eye on the edge. "You know, for once it would be nice to have an actual conversation, instead of me just talking to myself,"

"… You have the other one for that," Wyatt responded coolly.

"What can I say?" Isaac drawled. "He doesn't have your charm."

Isaac Jensen had been one of his closest friends since before he could remember. He was the one person outside of his family that he trusted implicitly. The other man had proven himself a thousand times over, never faltering in his loyalty despite how Wyatt treated him or what he ordered him to do, whether it be to organize a meeting between his Empire and the Resistance, or clearing up bodies when his temper gets the better of him. One thing he was most grateful for was the fact that Isaac had never developed the same fear of him as the majority of the world had. It was true that he usually approached Wyatt with a healthy dose of caution, of course, just as his family had, though never fear. And the list of people who did not fear him was incredibly short. If anything, it seemed Isaac's mission in life to annoy him.

Wyatt sighed heavily. "What news do you have?"

"… There was some kind of disturbance in New Avalon a few days ago," Isaac responded. "There was a bright light emitting from the tower, and it wasn't the wards. Something else was up there and caused it…"

"How long ago was this?"

Isaac shrugged. "About five or six days ago,"

Wyatt finally turned around to face his friend, a curious tilt to his head. "That was the same night she disappeared," he said quietly, calculatingly. Before Isaac could ask who 'she' was, Wyatt looked up abruptly, eyes narrowed. "Does my other half know where Chris is?"

Isaac shook his head readily. "No, he's just about as frantic as you were a few months ago," he told him. Wyatt had been searching relentlessly for his brother since his disappearance… until recently. Something had changed, or he finally heard from Chris, because the search parties all stopped. Isaac had a feeling that Wyatt knew more about his brother's whereabouts than he let on.

A dark chuckle erupted from Wyatt, one that held no amusement at all. "He didn't even trust the _good_ one?" he said mirthlessly, a grim smile on his face. Wyatt couldn't say for sure why it hurt so much that Chris didn't trust either of them. He had always figured that Chris would have at least told the other one where he was going. Apparently he had been wrong. "Chris is in the past," he stated.

"… That's a good thing, isn't it?" Isaac asked uncertainly.

Black eyes hardened. "How is that good?" he asked coldly. "He obviously went back to kill me."

Isaac was a brave soul to roll his eyes directly at his best friend. "Don't be stupid, Wy," he said firmly. Had anyone else said that to Wyatt, there would have been no hesitation from the blond man to prove why exactly it was a bad idea to include his name and the word _stupid _in the same sentence. However, as it were, Isaac got away with calling him names to his face. "He's your little brother. He practically worships you,"

"Not anymore,"

Huffing out an exasperated sigh, Isaac gave the other man a little shove. "Overanalyzer," he accused. "Wyatt, my friend, I believe you may have just been brooding on this subject for too long, and, like _always_, you have come to the wrong conclusion. Let's recap, shall we? You say Chris is in the past. What year is it?"

Wyatt scowled at him, not seeing the point. "2003."

Nodding thoughtfully, Isaac hummed in thought. "Right. Well I think it's safe to rule out him going back to kill you," he said flippantly. "Baby you would be no match for Chris. _You_ you aren't even a match for Chris," He grinned as Wyatt sent a scathing glare at him. "He could kick your ass, and you know it. He has never thrown anything at you that you couldn't handle."

Wyatt had to concede on that point, though he chose not to say it aloud. It wasn't that he believed that Chris was more powerful than him. On the contrary he was pretty certain that they were on equal footing a majority of the time, despite the fact that Chris had been sired by an _Elder _instead of just a _whitelighter_. However there was a reason why his cousin had always referred to him the brawn and Chris the brain—Chris was a great strategist and too creative for his own good. Wyatt would like to think that he thought outside of the box, but Chris wasn't even in the box. He could come up with crazy ideas while Wyatt preferred to use brute force to get his way. He found his methods effective for him, though he had to admit that if he and Chris ever truly fought he would most likely lose against his brother's quick thinking.

"Now, what could have possibly happened in 2003 that he may have wanted to change?" Isaac asked.

Wyatt furrowed his brows in thought. Could this be about his uncle perhaps? Did Chris go back in time to save him from himself? Or what about… "Aunt Paige," he said quietly in realization. "The Titans rose that year, and Paige was one of the first casualties. She became our whitelighter…"

Isaac nodded lazily. "See, quit being so self-centered. Not everything is about you, oh Dark One," he quipped, earning himself a scowl, though he only grinned cheekily. "Any more reasons he could have taken off?"

"… I don't know," Wyatt admitted.

"Well…" Isaac scratched at his temple thoughtfully. "Neither do I. But, we do know it's not to hurt you. How did you even know where he was?"

"Bianca,"

"You didn't," Isaac sighed when his friend remained silent, shaking his head. "You did! Chris is going to kill you if you hurt her, you realize that, right?"

Wyatt frowned. "She survived," he pointed out reasonably. "And he already knows."

"That's not the point," Isaac groaned. "And what do you mean he already knows?"

Isaac shifted uneasily as his friend reached inside of his pocket as extracted a crumbled up piece of paper. It appeared to have been put through much abuse, the ends torn and frayed, and the creases weak from being folded so many times. Wyatt held the paper out, and Isaac took it carefully as he looked it over, a deep set frown developing as he read the contents.

"What the hell is this?" he asked angrily.

"A time traveling spell," Wyatt said unnecessarily. "I wrote it for Bianca to go back and retrieve Chris."

Isaac rolled his eyes. "I know what it is, Wy," he said tightly. "What are you doing with it?"

Wyatt didn't have to respond verbally for his intentions to be clear.

"Hell no," Isaac swore. "No. You are not going after him."

"… No one said you had to come with me."

"You see this, right here," the other man sighed. "This is why your Empire is crumbling."

Blinking owlishly, Wyatt looked at him questioningly. "What?"

Isaac shook his head but he had no reply. "Why do you want to go back?"

"… Chris is changing things," he said. "We have to make sure he doesn't change too much,"

It was an excuse, of course, and Isaac didn't have to point it out for them both to know that.

If there was even a remote chance that one Christopher Halliwell could be in possible danger, Wyatt would react irrationally to ensure that any and all threats were eliminated. Isaac could still recall cleaning up after quite a few such encounters, much like when Chris had finally escaped the Facility and had been crossing the bridge to reach the Empire… Wyatt hadn't just killed the people responsible. He had obliterated them, causing California to downsize thirty percent of the mortal population. And Wyatt's loyal followers, who had captured the leader of the Resistance, sure that their precious Lord of Darkness would want to kill him, had been made an example of because they had unknowingly threatened said leader's baby brother. So even though Wyatt was claiming he was going back to ensure his brother didn't irrevocably change things for the worst or whatnot, what he was really saying, was that they were supposed to go to the past to ensure that Chris stayed out of trouble. An impossible task, however, because Chris was akin to gravity whereas trouble was concerned. There could be no doubt that Chris was already in over his head. But… they had responsibilities here.

Wyatt was the head of an organization that made up twenty-five percent of the world's population. And Isaac himself was a liaison between two such organizations; he kept the peace and dealt with the politics of it. He was there to make sure the people were happy, and that the truce was intact. They couldn't just leave, _he _couldn't just leave. He considered Chris to be a friend, probably even family, but he knew Chris could take care of himself even if Wyatt refused to believe it.

Isaac expelled a deep breath. "Wyatt…"

"Phoenicia is likely with him."

Swallowing, Isaac shook his head. "You _bastard_." he hissed. "Don't pull that crap with me,"

"Luke sent me a note," Wyatt told him calmly, feeling no guilt whatsoever in using his cousin against his friend, especially if it got Isaac to go with him. "She is no longer in captivity. The reports said she escaped… the same night you said there was a disturbance in New Avalon." He allowed Isaac to make the connections himself, watching as denial first shown through his friend's eyes before the realization crept in. Wyatt nodded solemnly. "You can be sure that she was the source. I have no idea what she did exactly, but she disappeared that night. I can't feel her anymore."

"Damn you," Isaac whispered. "Damn you, Wyatt,"

"… I've already placed Mikhail in charge while I'm gone," the older man continued.

"Oh? Did you now? Who did you get to cover for me?"

"Your future father-in-law," Wyatt smirked.

Isaac grimaced. "I _really_ hope you didn't call him that to his face,"

"He would have to be blind to not realize Isaiah is his grandson," Wyatt pointed out evenly, feeling a distinct pleasure at his friend's discomfort. "If he was going to kill you, it would have been a long time ago. He's already agreed to babysit for you while we're gone, as well."

"… You're an asshole, you know that?"

Wyatt only retrieved the spell from Isaac's lax grip. "Shall we?"

Isaac eyed the piece of paper dubiously. "You wrote this spell?"

"Yes, though the page I added to the book was stolen. This is the original copy."

"… And _you_," Isaac frowned doubtfully. "Are going to cast it?"

"Yes."

An eyebrow rose skeptically. "Forget it. Let's go get Petra or Portia to cast it."

"Bianca tested this spell," Wyatt informed him darkly. "It worked."

"Yeah. It worked _for her._"

Wyatt narrowed his eyes at him. "Are you implying it won't for me?"

"Wyatt, my friend," Isaac smiled. "No, I am not _implying_ that it won't work for you. I'm outright stating it that it won't, Sir Jinxalot."

"Isaac," he drawled menacingly. "_Don't call me that._"

The younger man shook his head. "Your spells _always_ backfire, Wyatt. Always."

"Are you coming with me or not?"

Sighing deeply, Isaac pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm going to regret this," he muttered. "Cast away, oh Lord of Darkness. But just remember, I _warned_ you. So when it backfires, I'm totally going to rub it in your face. Oh, and if I end up in the past inside out, I'm going to haunt your sorry ass for eternity. And when you finally die, I'm going to send your ass to purgatory. Got it?"

Wyatt stared at him unaffected. "… Ready?"

"… Go for it."

Wyatt placed a firm hand on Isaac's shoulder and began reciting the spell.

"_Hear these words, hear this rhyme_

_Heed the hope within my mind_

_Take be back, to what we'll find,_

_What we wish, in space and time."_

**End  
Chapter**

And here it is. It took less time to edit than I thought it would, but I suppose that's because it's a short chapter. Hopefully these weren't too disappointing, but it's almost time for the plot to pick up so future chapters should be more exciting. Finally, right? Some of it will be in flashbacks, because you all know how I like my flashbacks, but some of it will happen in the _present_. Next chapter will hopefully be out by the end of next week.

Lynx


	12. The Watchers

**Finding Yourself  
**_The Watchers_

**Thursday, November 27****th****, 2003  
**_The petite fifteen-year old crouched down by the fire he had created by rubbing two sticks together and saying a muted spell so the superiors wouldn't notice even if they had looked down upon him. Young Chris Halliwell was in a disheveled state. His clothes were torn in various places, the faded jeans spattered in blood and the thin hooded sweatshirt not providing any of the warmth his body needed. For someone like him, who relied on warmth to keep him alive, too much cold was life threatening so he tried his best to keep his only source of heat alive._

_His eyes flickered up over the great wall that stood between him and the rest of the Facility. He could barely see a guard through the tree canopy at the top of a sentry post, a sniper rifle in hand as the nameless guard gazed down into the arena the young man was trapped inside of. That is what this was, an arena where the mortals could observe and shoot them for government sanctioned sport if they failed to complete their missions or kill their targets. _

_Chris scowled up at the man, sorely tempted to scale the wall and beat him to death with his bare hands._

_Deciding it wouldn't be worth it just yet, Chris looked back down to the fire, holding his palms out to it. He silently willed the flames to come to him but they merely flickered slightly before settling. If only Wyatt would have had the chance to take the binding spell off of his magic before Chris had been captured… He blamed his family for this. If they hadn't bound his more offensive powers in the first place, then this would have never happened to him._

_Abruptly, the whooshing sound of hydraulics filled the room, and every nerve in his body was suddenly bursting with adrenalin and his back drew tout, his muscles ceasing. He breathed deeply as fresh air rushed through the staleness of the arena, and he cautiously scooted forward to peer through some shrubs, watching warily as a group of people entered through the newly opened door._

This is it…_ he thought, his body tense as he eased his hand into his worn boots, wrapping his fingers tightly around the hilt of his dagger, mostly for some reassurance. Heart catching in his throat at the sight of President Pratt, the new head of the Witch Extermination and Control Department, who strode purposely into the arena with his large entourage, Chris stilled in rage, watching them with rapt attention. Chris sneered inwardly at the man who spoke—Doctor West—as he looked at President Pratt reverently._

"_Sir," he began, glancing down at his clipboard. "This is where we keep all of the Special Breeds. Mostly of mixed blood, and all of them are extremely powerful. These are the ones who passed their basic training, and they are still in their second stage—survival. There is an estimation of eighty of the initial two hundred still alive,"_

"_I see," the man nodded, looking around with a curious eye. "Where are they?"_

"_Hiding, most likely," Dr. West informed him. "They're each under orders to select and maintain their territories until further instruction. They all seem reluctant to form alliances, for the obvious reasons," He chuckled along with a few others at the fact that if they thought the witches and demons did make actual friends, not just form truces, they would likely be forced to kill one another in single combat. "But those who have been brave enough are at the top of the program. For instance, subject 1957325—" Chris let out an involuntary hiss as his own serial number was spoken. "—has shown great leadership qualities and has actually rallied over thirty percent of them together. I honestly believe that the others haven't yet done so yet is only because they have yet to encounter him."_

_Chris narrowed his eyes. _That's what you think…

_The President stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I see. Will he be a problem?"_

"_No sir," Dr. West said with a smile. "He was at first, however he seems to have calmed greatly since he received the implant."_

_The group of men decided to take a tour through the arena that was now home to over two hundred witches and demons, no matter what their reports read. These people should have learned by now that they couldn't believe what they saw when magic was involved. It was quite easy to create a golem to fake someone's death—they had all the ingredients inside here, water and earth, blood and a simple whisper of words. Keeping the real people hidden was no problem, not with so many witches pulling together to protect the collective of them, and surviving was as simple as everyone working together to gather fruit and vegetables, and casting spells to multiply them by the hundreds. _

_It may have begun as survival but soon they had developed a plan, and when they finally acted, they would have the advantage because their captors had been decreasing the security since their population seemingly dwindled down to eighty. They were fools and it would be their downfall. And the time to act was now._

_Chris refrained from following the doctors and Pratt, and instead pulled his dagger free from his boot. He held it up, just so, angling it in the light from above so that it sent small flashes to a large tree eight yards away. A responding signal back was all it took to spur Chris into motion. He closed his eyes and pushed his senses out, feeling the minds of the people around him, making sure to avoid anyone with a magical signature. He sensed their minds quite easily with his telepathy and smiled with grim satisfaction. The young man then gathered up a small burst of raw magical energy and sharpened it into a spear in his mind._

_Then he hurled it at every mortal in range._

_Premature cheers echoed throughout the arena and shouts of victory could be heard, but Chris felt a pang of guilt as he saw some of the guards fall from their posts atop the wall and to their deaths. He pushed it aside ruthlessly and made his way to the door, sensing the others all approaching cautiously behind him. He turned and eyed the large crowed of anxious people and stood tall as a Brute demon, Cathos, approached, a rather large mace resting on his shoulder. His choice weapon had probably bashed more heads in than anyone would like to acknowledge._

_The demon stared at Chris for a long moment, silently praying that this kid would have what it took to do more than just incapacitate their captors, before motioning behind him. "Get what you need," he said crisply, his grip on the weapon tightening until his knuckles whitened. At his words, one of Dr. West's men was dropped at Chris' feet._

_Chris nodded sharply and knelt beside the fallen man, placing a hand over his forehead. Instantly, images and memories not his own flooded into his mind from the guard. He brutally sought out the information he needed, digging through the man's mind. Disoriented from the overload, Chris stumbled when he rose, swaying unsteadily, and several people, demon and witch alike, lunged forward to catch and steady him._

"… _We'll need him to get out," he said hoarsely, reaching down and taking the small keycard that was clipped to the man's shirt. "Their scanners take fingerprint and DNA scans at every checkpoint,"_

_Cathos nodded, gesturing for two of their kind to grab the unconscious guard, forcing his limp hand over the scanner. Chris himself smiled thankfully to the people who had caught him, turning and slowly approaching the door. He slid the card through the reader and waited anxiously for the rest light to turn green, before typing in the code he had siphoned from the guard's mind._

_Everyone held their breaths, waiting and hoping that this would finally be the day they broke free. When the metallic doors slid apart, they all let out a collective sigh of relief, some even sharing looks of triumph. Chris turned slightly, giving them all a sharp look that silenced them all instantly. It was too soon to celebrate a victory, all they had done was open a door and knock out a few people. They were still deep within the facility and it would be a long, hard journey to reach the outside world. Even then, they had to find a way to get into territory under magical control. He was not naïve, and he understood that not all of them would make it out of here alive. They might not even make it out at all. But they still had to try…_

_Chris walked slowly through the door first, half expecting it to have some sort of magical detection device, though he made it through with no trouble. He glanced down either side of the long corridors that could lead to freedom or demise, breathing in air that was nothing like the air they breathed daily inside of the arena. He reached out with his senses, repeating the process of incapacitating anyone within range, and when he was done he finally signaled for the others to follow him._

_They made it to the end of one hallway before the alarms sounded._

Chris jerked awake with a startled gasp, amber eyes flying open in alarm. His body trembled and he instinctively wrapped his arms around his midsection, seeking protection from an invisible chill caused by his nightmare. He calmed slightly as his eyes made contact with Phoenicia's sleeping face. She was sprawled out over the bed with the covers kicked off of her as usual, and he blinked, realizing he was once again waking in Phoebe's room, having fallen asleep in her reading chair.

Ignoring the small twinges of pain in his neck and his back from falling asleep in such an awkward position, he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to erase the familiar images from his mind. He did not want to think about that day, never again. He had shown no mercy beyond escaping that hallway and he had been responsible for the deaths of so many people. It hurt him to think about it.

Eyes watering as his stomach rebelled, he stood up shakily, sparing one last glance at his cousin to make sure she was still asleep before he made his way on unsteady legs to the bathroom. Closing the door behind him, Chris looked in the mirror, ashamed to see the wetness gathering in the corners of his eyes. He closed them briefly, trying not to _think_, and turned the dials on the sink to their hottest setting.

The steam rose around him in spirals and he placed his hand under the stream, feeling the scalding heat wash over his him like a gentle kiss upon his skin. He gathered some into the palms of his hands and splashed it over his face, washing away the evidence of his guilt. He was not in a position where he could afford to be guilty about what he had done in the name of survival. He had been fighting for his very right to simply breathe, could he truly be held accounted for when all he wanted was to live freely?

Chris sighed as he turned the water off, all the while staring at his reflection. He looked terrible, and not just in the physical sense. He couldn't quite place his finger on it, why he looked so miserable, though he decided not to dwell on the matter any longer. He shifted his thoughts to his nightmare… his memories. He wished he could just take a magic eraser and remove everything he had seen and done. He smiled mirthlessly, realizing that if they succeeded in what they were doing, they would all be given a clean slate, even the people who had done this to them.

Nathaniel Pratt and Richard West were the exceptions.

The young man didn't care what he had told the sisters earlier. He would find the two of them, and he would take them apart piece by piece. Pratt and West had no right to live and he would dismember them with his bare hands if he had to. The other figureheads of the _W.E.C.D._ had been more humane, had treated their prisoners as human beings at least. Conway, Brannon, Harlem, Li, Gallagher, Lake, Jackson, and Oleander he would give them a second chance, modify their memories, keep them from interfering.

Richard West was someone he would always loathe. The psychiatric doctor single handedly responsible for discovering what his cousin was. West had held her captive, had tortured her with electroshock therapy and kept her so sedated that she could not speak and who cut open her head and made her do things. Chris knew logically that West had yet to do any of those things. Right now, the man was probably just now graduating with his degree. Chris didn't care. What that man had done, not only to Phoenicia but to so many others… it was unforgivable.

And Nathaniel Pratt… there were no words to describe the hatred Chris felt for that man. He spread fear and panic throughout the world, rallying the people into hysteria and chaos until people were attacking each other in the streets in their terror. He organized the Trials, and he was the one to propose burning witches at the stake, claiming that it was a biblical way of removing the evil of witchcraft from the world once and for all. He brought back medieval methods of interrogation, pricking accused witches with sharp instruments, thumbscrews, leg vices… flails with sharp pieces of metal embedded in the tails.

Chris shook slightly just thinking of the horrors that man brought upon people, taking in a deep, calming breath to rid himself of the memories of his own interrogation that plagued him. Pratt invoked a fury within Chris that was like no other and anyone within a six hundred mile radius should make themselves scarce if Chris ever found him. Honestly, Chris scared himself when he thought of what he would do if he found Pratt any time soon. Death would be an easy option for him compared to what Chris had imagined over the years.

Sighing heavily, Chris exited the bathroom and walked back to Phoebe's room. He was a bit surprised that she had yet to kick them out of her room. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy sleeping in a nice warm bed every night, quite the contrary in fact. It just baffled him a bit that Phoebe was willing to be miserable sleeping on the couch every night for them. It was… nice. It was nice to know that she cared enough for Phoenicia without even really knowing her, to continue allowing them to take over her bedroom.

Chris paused just outside of the open door, blinking when he spotted the empty sheets. He tensed slightly, a sharp spike of panic surging through him. "Phoenicia?" he called, stepping further into the room, a worried frown marring his features. He sensed her, which caused him to ease slightly, though he still could not see her. "Phoenicia, where are you?"

A small laugh caused him to look up, and he smiled involuntarily at the sight.

"What are you doing up there?" he asked, shaking his head.

"Exercising," she said cheekily.

Chris inhaled deeply, his mind reeling with relief. She certainly sounded normal, not the soft, dreamy voice she had when she was lost in her own thoughts. He observed her carefully as she defied gravity, her hair falling around her face slightly as it hung down. She was resting against the ceiling, smiling down at him gently.

"Christopher," she sang. "Care to join me?"

"… Why don't you just come down here?" he suggested instead, watching warily as she merely shook her head and stayed exactly where she was. He resisted the urge to curse at her, because there would be no force in heaven or hell that would be able to move her unless she wanted to move. Stubbornness was a Halliwell trait after all. "Fine,"

Chris sighed as he closed his eyes in focus. This was something he used to do every single day, as a way to improve his control over his telekinesis, though he had not done so in years. Phoenicia and Wyatt had eventually caught him in the act one day, and of course, had insisted on joining him. Chris liked to believe that their powers were akin to muscles, just another limb they needed to exercise regularly to ensure it was in optimum condition.

A vein on his temple pulsed, visible from the strain of attempting to lift his body into the air. He managed to rise a few inches before his control began faltering. He staggered forward as he lost the hold, stumbling right onto the vacant bed. Releasing a shaky breath, he turned and glanced up, rubbing somewhat embarrassedly at the back of his neck. He gave Phoenicia a helpless shrug.

"It's been a while," he said in his defense.

Phoenicia only smiled, watching as he arranged himself out on the bed. "When was the last time? Four years ago?" she asked curiously. He grimaces and gave her a sheepish nod. "It's a shame. I remember a time when you would fall asleep on the ceiling, and somehow you subconsciously managed to stay there for hours." Her voice held a small hint of wonder, as if his accomplishment back then was something extraordinary, and he flushed slightly at the praise, mumbling something in response. "You just need to relax, and you'll rise without even realizing it."

Chris stared up at her with thinly veiled concern. "Are… are you alright?"

"I will be," she replied softly, her lips twisting in a smile. "Eventually, I will be. So concentrate on accomplishing our goal, because if we do that, there will be nothing to worry about." She gave him an exaggerated roll of her eyes, and expelled an exasperated sigh. "You worry about me too much, you know, and you don't have to Chris. I can take care of myself. You need to take better care of _yourself_."

"… It's my job to worry about you," he informed her. "And I take my job very seriously."

Phoenicia rolled her eyes. "I know you do," she huffed, before giving him a gentle smile. "Thank you."

Chris smiled widely in return. "You're welcome, Mia,"

"So… you told them." she said calmly, and there could be no mistaking that it was a question. It was a simple fact, and he met her eyes cautiously. Phoenicia was staring at him proudly. "It's progress," she offered. "It seems they're taking it rather well. They're discussing the possibility of voting tonight, after dinner or some time tomorrow, on whether or not they will go with us. Paige, especially, seems eager to go… she wants to learn. "

"Don't sound so surprised," Chris cautioned her. "They may be… lacking in certain areas, granted, but you have to admit that they aren't as bad as you say they are," Phoenicia scowled, crossing her arms behind her head, refusing to respond to his words. "They're still the Charmed Ones… think of all that they've accomplished in just six years, Mia. If they're willing to learn…"

Phoenicia sighed irritably. "Believe in them all you want, Chris. I wash my hands of them,"

"… You don't mean that,"

"So we're going to the Midlands?" she asked, making no attempts to hide the fact that she was shamelessly changing the subject. Chris gave her a pointed look though decided to let it slide, nodding to her question. "Good. It's about damn time. We can't move forward with my—" A cough interrupted her, and she rolled her eyes, amending, "_Our_ plan… without consulting with the Illuminati. Because we aren't even born yet, there is no way mini-me is going to be able to handle negotiations and politics from the womb, mister,"

Chris laughed. "Yeah, I know," he agreed. "If we do manage to pull this off, they will probably need to appoint someone to represent our side while we grow up." He grinned suddenly. "Do you think one day, when magic is finally free completely, there will be elections for our kind?"

"Yes, I do," she told him. "One day, someone incredibly powerful will become this nation's… president."

A slow smile spread across his face. "I would like to see that,"

Phoenicia smiled secretively, though her cousin didn't seem to notice, and she managed to wipe it off of her face by the time he looked back up at her. "We need to end this first," she reminded him. "We need to go after the executioners first. I know you don't want to kill them, or hurt their families by making them disappear, but I'm rather fond of the idea of stuffing them inside of a pocket dimension for a couple hundred years."

Chris snorted. "Of course you are,"

"… Are we ready for this?"

It was a serious question. Were they ready for this? Were they even capable of changing the way the world has been for the past few millennia? But Chris couldn't think about it. He simply could not go through all of the possibilities or any of the impossibilities. He couldn't afford to doubt himself, or to let Phoenicia doubt herself. He was determined to see this through. And with enough determination, Chris believed anything was possible.

Chris stared directly at her, smiling serenely. "Yeah," he said. "We are."

Phoenicia and Chris fell into a comfortable silence after that, taking comfort in each other's presence as they both allowed themselves to fully unwind for the first time in a very long while. It was quiet and peaceful, and Chris closed his eyes, listening to the silence. He was so at peace that he took no notice when the soft pressure beneath him diminished into nothingness.

"Christopher," Phoenicia sang, her voice tinged with amusement.

The young man hummed a noncommittal sound in question.

"… Open your eyes," she laughed.

Sea green eyes, calm and serene, opened lazily, seeking out his cousin. She was still above him, though she seemed much closer than before. It took him several moments to realize that she was now within reach, not more than a foot away from him as if they were standing right in front of each other. However the moment he did discover this, he let out a startled gasp and suddenly plummeted in a downward fall, his body bouncing slightly upon the bed from the momentum of his impact.

Phoenicia laughed uproariously as he sat up in bewilderment. "Told you so,"

Chris blinked, suddenly recalling her words and chuckled. "Yes you did," he mused fondly.

A sudden knock on the door startled them, thought Phoenicia somehow managed to keep her concentration and stay afloat. "Is everything all right in there?" Paige asked through the door. "It sounded like something fell,"

"Everything's fine!" Chris assured her.

"If you say so," she replied dubiously. "… Piper says dinner is in ten minutes."

Phoenicia drifted gracefully to the ground, her body twisting when she was halfway down so that her feet met the ground first. She shared a slightly reluctant look with her cousin, both a bit apprehensive about the extravagant dinner that Piper had somehow managed to prepare on such short notice. After washing up a bit, the two ventured downstairs and made their way into the dining room.

In between the threshold of the dining room and the kitchen, another young man was standing in waiting, watching the proceedings with something akin to boredom. His eyes were the color of burnt moss, a smoky green, and he had honey brown hair, cropped short and styled neatly into small peaks. His physique was lean and well kept, though not particularly bulky, and he was a bit on the shorter side. His pleasant face was set in a scowl, lips twisted and a frown marring his brows as he stood.

Isaac Jensen would consider himself to be a reasonable man. He liked to believe he was kind. He would never hesitate to help someone in need if it was within his abilities. He prided himself on being fiercely protective of his friends. He was the kind of person who would make a bad joke just to elicit a smile from someone, even if it made him look like an idiot to do so. He was also very forgiving. He ignored the hurt when his best friend sometimes looked at him as if he didn't recognize him, he never held a grudge when he was held captive and tortured for information on the Resistance, and he even forgave the demon who had murdered his father.

However if he had to stay in this state for the rest of his life, he would never forgive Wyatt. He _knew_ this would happen, he even _warned_ Wyatt that the spell would backfire because his spells _always_ backfire horribly. And now he was in an incorporeal state, invisible to all except for himself, and he had no idea how to rectify this. It was not as if he could simply walk out of this invisible plane and back into reality. Technically, he was not sure he even existed. There was no way to know for sure if he was of the living or if he was of the dead. It was as if he was a spirit that could not walk through walls.

The only positive thing was that he had made it to the past.

Isaac felt his eye twitch imperceptibly as he watched a very recognizable figure bustle around the house to prepare for the grand family dinner. He had to admit, when Piper Halliwell put her mind to something, she could create some very wonderful things. If he was actual a physical being, be would be salivating right now at the sight of the elaborate feast she had spent the majority of the day preparing. And he knew it all tasted good, great even, because he had spent most of his life inside of this household.

The young man shifted, crossing his arms over his chest, sighing despondently. If only he could find some way to communicate with them. He wondered if he could use the spirit board… did they even have that yet? He couldn't remember if it was a family heirloom or if it was something that Leo had crafted for his sons. He didn't even know if he could contact them with it anyway, and he had no idea where it would have been kept, so he wasn't getting his hopes up just yet.

Isaac turned his head slightly as he sensed movement, and he felt an involuntary smile rise as he saw who entered the room. He knew Christopher could take care of himself. Here he was, alive and… not quite well, though he seemed to be in better condition now than when he had left so Isaac counted it as a victory. Isaac had seen him at his worst, throughout his long depression, and he was pleased to see the kid in better spirits if not health.

However as his eyes landed on the slight figure accompanying Chris only a few short steps behind him, Isaac felt as if all of the oxygen had been siphoned out of the room, leaving him gasping desperately for some air. A muscle in his jaw drew tout as he stared at her, absorbing every inch of her reverently. He was in motion before he could stop himself, briskly approaching and reaching out to touch her.

"It won't work," a sudden voice spoke behind him, and Isaac whipped around violently, fists drawn as if ready for a fight. The young man stared in shock as he laid eyes on a frighteningly familiar face, taking in the older man's appearance in a snap second. The dark hair was limp, greasy from not being washed, and his entire appearance was disheveled and unkempt, though his very presence exuded power and grace.

Everything about him was so achingly familiar, right down to the sadness in his stormy gray eyes and the suspicious set to his strong jaw. Isaac was dumbfounded because it was as if he was staring into the face of his mentor, the man who had been a father to him when his own had passed away, and who had taught him that his demonic lineage was nothing to be afraid or ashamed of. And he had not aged a day; he looked exactly like the man Isaac spoke to on a regular basis, just a few days ago in fact.

"Cole," he breathed out, the identity of this man filling his entire being with profound relief, not only that he had found a very trustworthy ally, but he now realized exactly _what_ he was and knew that what they were not trapped in this incorporeal form and it was not life or death or even a transitioning world. They were simply located on another plane of existence, one that, if Isaac knew his history correctly, his mentor could navigate through with ease.

The man in question tilted his head curiously. "You know me," he said, not quite a question though not quite a statement either. It was an all too recognizable tone, and Isaac realized he was about to be subtly interrogated, inwardly cringing because he knew he had to be very selective with his answers, which was something he had never been very good at. A hand was offered, and Isaac accepted it warily as his mentor properly introduced himself. "Coleridge Turner."

Swallowing, he replied, wincing at the tight, assessing grip on his hand, "Isaac Jensen."

Cole released him a moment later, watching with a detached amusement as Isaac flexed his fingers now that the crushing pressure was gone. "Another time traveler," the man guessed, seemingly satisfied when he received a corresponding nod of admission. "Here to save Wyatt as well?"

Isaac snorted. "Screw Wyatt," he muttered darkly, and his eyes began drifting around the room again, settling once more on the young woman sitting beside his best friend's little brother. She was dressed in a simple black shirt and a pair of jeans that she had most likely pilfered from her mother's closet, and her hair was still short, the same jagged and crude cut that had been given to her by the facility.

A soft chuckle interrupted his observation. "I see," Cole said, an odd smile twisting on his lips. He gave the young woman, his ex-wife's future daughter, a curious look. "Halliwell women are very hard to resist," The man shook his head in amusement as he watched his new companion's face flush slightly at being caught, watching inquisitively as the young man seemed to realize something and his face suddenly turned ashen, as if he were about to be sick.

Isaac cleared his throat, rubbing a hand down his face vigorously, and exhaling shakily. He licked his chapped lips, shooting a wary look at his future mentor. "What were you saying before?" he asked, hoping to change the topic, because he really did not want to speak about the irresistibility of the Halliwell women with Cole Turner of all people.

Cole accepted the change gracefully, his skill at working a conversation to his own advantage without anyone realizing allowing for it. "… I said, it won't work," he replied with a sweeping gesture around the room, his own eyes drawn to the object of his affections as she helped her sister set the table. "You can reach out all you want. You can try to run your fingers through her hair, to touch her soft skin, her kiss her temple at night… but all we can do is watch," His voice was hollow, a hopelessness in it that made Isaac's own heart ache for him. "It is a punishment."

Honestly, Isaac had no idea how to respond to him. "Have you tried speaking to her…?"

Cole turned to him with a sad, and slightly puzzled, smile. "We are nothing," he said evenly. "You can stand right in front of them for hours, waving your hands in front of their eyes, and they won't see you. You can walk right into them, _through_ them, and they won't even feel it. You can whisper declarations of love, promises, or you can scream in their ears until you lose your voice. They won't hear it. This is a punishment, a personal hell. There is no contacting the outside world, no communicating with anyone… no one even knows we exist. And there is no escape."

Isaac stared at him in disbelief, not quite understanding what he was saying. "That's not right," he said to himself, shaking his head. "No. No, you," He pointed accusingly. "You told me that you used to come here on a different plane, every once in a while, to make sure that your family was safe. You never said anything about being… being _trapped here!_ You have to know how to leave," He had an almost desperate gleam in his eyes. "You have to…"

The older man sighed empathetically. "Sorry kid," he said after collecting his thoughts. "I have been here for almost a year, and I'm no closer to escaping this hell than I am to making amends for everything I have done to this family," He turned sad eyes back on the display, as Piper began bringing the plates of steaming food from the kitchen, Phoebe and Paige sneaking small tastes while their older sister's back was turned.

Isaac shook his head in denial. This couldn't be happening, it simply _couldn't._ His eyes scanned the room as he calculated the dates, growing more helpless by the second. There had to be some mistake, because he knew what day this was and what year, and he knew that everything had to happen a certain way otherwise… otherwise… No. No, he refused to believe it. This wasn't right. _No._

"No," Isaac snapped out loud, causing his mentor to look at him in shock at his sudden outburst. "_No_. You will find a way out of here. Immediately," he demanded, taking a few threatening steps closer to the man. "Because if you don't, there won't be enough time because it took her almost two months to forgive you, if you just stay here feeling sorry for yourself, withering away instead of _fighting_, then your own flesh and blood will cease to exist! Is that what you want? Do you want your _daughter_, your _baby girl, _to die?"

Cole stared at him incomprehensibly, his eyes flickering between the enraged boy and the young woman he seemed so enamored with. He had speculated when he first saw her of course, imagined and pretended that she could be his daughter. She looked so much like Phoebe, though he had made believe that her eyes were his. He had developed a protective edge the moment he had seen her. Not only because she was the daughter of the woman he loved, but her middle name had been a contributing factor for his wishful imagination, as when Phoebe was pregnant with his child last year he had been looking at both boy and girl names.

They had discussed naming a son Benjamin, for his human father, and if it had been a girl…

He would have wanted her to be named after his younger sister, Naomi. He had only known his sister for the few short months they were together before their mother killed their father and fled with him. Naomi had been more like their father, more human than he had been, and their mother thought she would be a liability. Naomi had been taken in by a human relative, and Cole had ensured she was well provided for throughout her life, until she died of old age. Of course he would have named his daughter after her, even if it had just been her middle name.

"No," Cole said evenly. "I don't want my daughter to die."

Isaac swallowed nervously, inwardly berating himself for revealing what he had, though he supposed it was all for the best, because he recognized the determined glint in Cole's gray eyes as the same one his daughter possessed. It would not be long before they found a way to leave this place, to enter the real world. He released a long breath, scratching at his eyebrow as he steadfastly ignored the eyes drilling holes into the back of his head.

Instead he concentrated on watching as everyone finally settled down at the table for their feast, Leon doing the honors of saying grace as the others all bowed their heads. He watched them, a fond smile appearing on his face without his knowledge as Phoenicia began serving her and Chris, ensuring he got large portions of everything. She was always such a mother hen when it came to her family and friends. He noted the way her head tilted to Chris, and immediately guessed with certainty that they were having one of their telepathic conversations. It had always drove everyone insane when those two ignored everyone else in favor of conversing in private, Isaac included, though after being parted with her for so long, instead of vexing he found it a bit endearing.

With a shaky inhale, the young man edge closer to where she was sitting, well aware that her father was watching his every move with rapt attention. Cole could threaten him later if he wanted, with violence or some other sort of harm. Isaac's only concern at the moment was not the world or saving it, not Chris and Wyatt's obsessive need to protect him, not even where Wyatt himself was at the moment. No, here and now, his only concern was Phoenicia.

Isaac was half scared and half hopeful all at once as he stopped just behind her, his mixed feelings that she would somehow sense his presence. The last time he had seen her had been when she was fifteen, and he almost seventeen, when he had been taken into captivity for the first time. The cataclysmic events of that visit had shaken them both to the core, both scarred and torn beyond repair inside. To this day, he had no idea how she had been able to convey to him that he was not at fault for what happened, that she did not hold him responsible. Her forgiveness had been the only thing to keep him from harming himself, from basically committing suicide by attacking anyone in that facility.

Ever so slowly, Isaac held his breath as he lifted his hands cautiously, allowing them to hover just above her shoulders. It wasn't quite touching, though it was the closest he had gotten since that night and he treasured the small intake of breath, as she turned her head slightly, as if sensing his facsimile touch and reacting to him. It was impossible however, he knew, his emotions twisting reality with fantasy.

Isaac pulled away from her with a disappointed sigh. "… You were a great father," he offered. "Phoenicia would always talk about you, regaling everyone with stories of the bad men her father put away in court. She loved you completely, unconditionally. She was daddy's little girl," He smiled wryly, shaking his head. "When you and Phoebe finally decided to get a divorce… she refused to change her name back to Halliwell… 'It's Turner,' she would say. She always got _so_ mad when someone wouldn't acknowledge that you were her father. And the nickname you gave her, it's what she liked being called the most…"

"… I called her _Mia_, didn't I?" Cole asked.

"Yeah," Isaac smiled. "After her aunt, I think. When you and Phoebe split, only Chris, Wyatt and I still called her that. She eventually managed to convince everyone that the reason she wanted to be called that was because someone had given her the name Phony or something. You were the real reason though. Even though you weren't living with her anymore, she wanted to be close to you somehow."

Cole mulled over the information carefully. "How long have you been in love with her?"

Out of everything Isaac had just told him, he had not been expecting to be called on it. If anything, Isaac expected Cole to question how he and Phoebe got back together, or more importantly, why they got divorced for a second time when they had apparently built a family. He expelled a long breath, rubbing at his face as he gathered his thoughts. He shook his head, watching the family dinner with sad eyes.

"I've known Phoenicia since she was brought home from the hospital," Isaac told him quietly. "October first. She was five pounds, seven ounces. She was the quietest baby in the world… she never cried unless something was attacking, she never fussed. I don't remember much, I'm only a year and a half older than her… but I've seen the home videos, and apparently I appointed myself as her protector the moment I saw her. We grew up together, I was Wyatt's best friend, and she was practically his little sister," Isaac smiled with a soft chuckle. "I developed a crush on her when I was twelve. She was… incredible, even then…"

"… Does she know?"

Isaac laughed. "Probably," he said. "There isn't much you can hide from Phoenicia, even if she wasn't a… a very gifted seer. And a telepath, and able to siphon Chris' empathy power," Isaac shrugged helplessly. "I've never told her, not even in a joking way. Chris would destroy me if he ever found out… Wyatt knows, and apparently I wasn't as good at hiding it as I thought, so I guess you knew too. Not now you, future you,"

"The only reason I guessed it," Cole informed him gently. "Is because I saw the way you looked at her when she walked into the room. It's the same way I look at Phoebe every day."

Both men fell silent after that. They had both said all they wanted to say, and Cole himself was a bit unused to being around someone after being trapped in this state for an entire year. They both watched with unspoken longing as they watched the people they cared deeply about finish their family meal and begin cleaning up afterwards. They watched warily as everyone decided to have a small conference in the conservatory, both grimacing as Piper casually brought up the subject of Chris' ability to travel by flames and the fact that he had destroyed her floor.

Chris himself seemed to be calm and unaffected by her accusations, and simply cast a well-known and much abused spell to these people, to make the sight unseen. Things became even tenser when Piper sputtered, because she had tried that spell several times, and it had not had the same desired effect. Isaac could only sigh, wishing he could tell Piper that she was lucky that the floor was the only thing Chris had destroyed if the sight of said floor was anything to go by. Chris could have very well demolished the entire block if he was so angry.

"Are they like this every night?" he asked, exasperated by the display.

Cole hummed softly. "Yes. Never a dull moment around here,"

"… How can they accuse Chris of having demonic powers?" Isaac wondered aloud. "Powers are neutral, _magic_ is neutral. They're not good or bad, and Chris is practically an angel. What is demonic about that?"

"Sometimes their beliefs are contradictory," Cole agreed. "I usually find myself hard pressed to keep up with their latest mindsets. A few weeks ago, they were all cooing over a baby Manticore demon, even allowed it with Wyatt in his playpen. Now, apparently, even the thought of using a so called demonic power is the greatest offense you can commit. You learn to go with it."

"A baby demon, you say?" Isaac shifted uncomfortably, trying to appear nonchalant. "What did they do with it?"

Cole shrugged, though he eyed the young man carefully. "Saved it from its mother, and allowed it to go home with its human father. Paige argued that a baby, no matter what race, or… species it was, should not be vanquished. It was a cute baby, too," he commented. "He had a wide smile, always giggling about something or another. He was almost the same age as Wyatt."

"Oh?" Isaac questioned.

"Piper mentioned that they should get together some time for play dates."

Isaac swallowed thickly. "Awesome,"

**End  
Chapter**

My character images have been updated to reflect the new character, just click on the names to see them. You can see who I chose to portray Isaac. Speaking of Isaac, someone speculated in a review that Isaac was Billie's son, so I'm going to clarify that right now… no, he's not. I can see why some might have thought that but I began writing this story before I ever saw the final season, so some of the things from there will not be in here (although I did make some exceptions and rewrote them to fit)

Isaac is only a few months younger than Wyatt in my story, and also, Billie's last name was Jenkins, not Jensen, though they are similar. I do try to be consistent with the show, and all of my original characters _are_ based on characters from the show, a briefly mentioned person or whatnot. If you read carefully, you should be able to deduce who Isaac is, though the character was never actually named. I thought I made it obvious but perhaps I'm more subtle than I thought I was… and, sorry to the Coop lovers out there but I've always been intrigued by the complexity of Cole's character, and the relationship dynamic between him and the others.

Until next time,

Lynx


	13. The Wards

**Finding Yourself  
**_The Wards_

**Friday, November 28****th****, 2003  
**The house was very quiet when Chris woke the next morning. Dinner had been pleasant enough, and for a while it had almost felt like they were a real family… up until the disastrous conclusion where he ended up leaving before he did or said something he knew he would later regret. He had some trouble sleeping however, wary of the images his mind might conjure up in his sleep, and he had spent a majority of the night away in his cave. He had passed the time preparing and gathering items for a cleansing, because Phoenicia spoke about setting wards around the manor soon. He knew she could have easily just conjured the required items, though it had given him something to pass the time with.

Everyone was asleep when he arrived, which was not very surprising considering that the sun was still rising, however he could not find his cousin anywhere within the room upstairs. He suspected that she had somehow known how he spent the night and decided to begin without him. He could sense her in the basement, and he contemplated joining her down there, however decided against it a moment later, figuring this would give him an opportunity to slip away for a moment.

After a quick journey back to his cave to retrieve the bag of supplies, Chris entered the kitchen and tugged the heavy burden off of his shoulder. He began laying out the necessary materials for the rituals, separating them into piles for each individual rite. Cleansings were relatively easy and only required a few basic items, such as angelica root, salt, van oil, and billings root to purify the area. Salt was _very_ important. Setting actual wards was a bit more complicated in the aspect that wards had to be tied to something, usually an inanimate object, more often than naught something made of a type of precious stone, and then they likewise had to be tied to a person as well. It was also very dangerous, because wards could be draining of both magic and spirit.

In essence, having someone hold wards could be fatal to their very existence.

Elementals, however, were a bit lucky in the way they could draw upon their element to revitalize them, which is why wards were usually only held by such beings. It was why his brother had been chosen to hold the wards in New Avalon, in fact, and not someone else. Setting the wards in his own grotto had been draining to the point where he had not been able to place any around the manor. It had been an error on his part, thinking he would be strong enough to do them both but he had not anticipated that casting the wards on his cave would have rendered him unconscious. True, he had only been knocked out for a grand total of twenty minutes whereas anyone else would have been out for weeks, though after that experience, he had known better than to attempt wards on the house. It would have likely placed him into a coma.

In hindsight, he knew that if he had been eating and sleeping properly every day he might not have been so affected by the magical strain but there was nothing he could do about that now. He wouldn't be strong enough to cast anymore wards by himself until Phoenicia got her way and began the rigorous training regime that they used to complete every morning with Wyatt as the slave driver, and began eating three square meals a day with plenty of snacks in between each meal. He would also have to start getting decent nights of sleep.

As Chris was just finishing up, he was startled by the shrill cry of a baby through the monitor by the sink, and he dissolved into a bright swirl of lights before he had even consciously registered he was moving. He scanned nursery for any sign of threats, and upon finding none, stared into the tearstained eyes of his brother. Wyatt was still crying softly, though he was staring at Chris with rapt attention.

Reaching inside of the crib, Chris lifted the child up gently and began swaying in place, soothing him with hushed words and a caring hand carding through golden curls. They stayed there in that position for a while, and the young man laughed quietly when a tiny fist curled around the collar of his shirt. He was pleased to see that Wyatt was no longer wary of him. He could honestly say that he was happy that he had managed to earn the child's trust, if no one else. He could be content with that.

A soft sigh caught Chris' attention and he snapped his head to the side almost violently, before he realized it was only Piper. She was sitting in the old rocking chair in the corner, her head in a distinctly uncomfortable position. In her hands, she held a frayed teddy bear loosely, looking as if it would fall to the floor any moment. Chris edged closer and rescued the toy from its inevitable fate, placing in the space between his chest and his brother as he gave the boy a mildly amused look.

"You must have kept her awake all night," he said in a quiet voice, sighing as he looked back over at their mutual mother. She was going to be in a rather unpleasant and disagreeable disposition when she woke and he just knew it would have some effect on her vote to go with them to the Midlands when the time came. Slightly deflated at his own prediction, Chris carefully exited the nursery and exited through Piper's bedroom rather than risk waking her by orbing again. He paused when he spotted Leo on the sofa next to the window, sound asleep as well.

Smirking briefly at the slumbering form of his father, he felt his spirits lifting from the fact that his parents had reconciled enough for Leo to be welcome to spend the night, if even just to sleep on the sofa. He made his way downstairs with his brother resting comfortably in his arms, and wondered what had woken the child. He silently tapped into Phoenicia's powers and conjured up a fresh diaper, subsequently banishing the old one with magic at the same time, because changing the diaper by hand was way past the line of _creepy_ and he refused to go there.

"Are you hungry, Wyatt?" he asked kindly. "We should probably go see if Mia is too, huh?"

Blue eyes stared at him with wisdom beyond their years, and the child made no answer.

"Yeah, let's go find Mia," Chris said to himself. Down in the basement, the very first thing Chris noticed was that this space was no longer how he remembered it. Apparently he had not been the only one to find ways to occupy himself last night. Phoenicia had obviously had a very busy and productive night as well.

The once dark and dreary room had been completely renovated into a warm and inviting apartment space. The artificial lighting had been replaced by tall standing candelabras with red, cinnamon scented candles and floating balls of pure magic. Chris entered the room cautiously, taking in every detail of the transformation with awe. All of the boxes of antique items or old clothes that had once aligned the walls of the basement to the very ceiling had all been magically reduced to the small size of sugar cubes and were now sitting upon a small shelf strategically placed to hide the water heater from view near the base of the stairs.

The entire room had obviously been enlarged to accommodate everything, because he could not imagine the room being this large _before _such a spell. Off to the right was a common area, the hard cement floor now replaced with a soft, burgundy area rug. A large scrying mirror was hovering against the wall above a newly fashion fireplace, with two comfortable looking wine colored chaises stationed in front of it as if it were a television. In one corner was now an enclosed room, and after peeking inside he discovered it was actually a small potions lab similar to the one he had created inside of his cave, and accompanying cherry-wood cabinets already fully stocked with ingredients for everything they would all ever need to start their own apothecary.

Backing away, Chris turned his gaze to the other side of the room, which had apparently been changed into a small gym big enough for the entire family to join in. Surrounding the large black padded mats on the floor were various racks of all the weapons they had all accumulated over the years and then some, training weights and even a few practice dummies that he sensed had been imbued with magic. They were simple golems, creatures made entirely by magic and earth which could essentially fight back. If provided with enough magic, golems could even appear as real people or specific species of demons if desired. It was a wonderful alternative for training, rather than hunting actual demons.

On the far side of the room in another corner was a small kitchenette and Chris spotted a rather large door beside the silver refrigerator, directly underneath the small window that led up to the backyard. It was done in the same wood as every other piece of furniture in the room, the deep, dark cheery-wood, and it appeared to just be an ordinary door leading to another room, despite the fact that Chris was sure that there was only a solid concrete wall on the other side of it. However in place of a door handle was a small spinning knob, similar to the ones found on the doors of safes, though instead of a combination of numbers on the dial, there were colors and what appeared to be gemstones encrusted to it.

A closer look had his breath catching in his throat as he examined the gems. One was an emerald, obsidian and gold infused with the stone, another a darkened ruby with amber and garnet swirls, an amethyst with white crystals and aquamarine wavy lines, and a simple clear diamond encased in a quartz cluster. They were all the size of a small marble and he recognized them so easily. They were hearthstones, precious stones made from pure and raw magic during an elemental's coming of age. He had no idea where Phoenicia had managed to procure them or where she had been keeping them but he felt a profound sense of happiness.

They had been made when the four of them had last been together.

A hearthstone could be viewed as a useless keepsake because they had no true purpose other than to test the skill of the person making it, though they could also be viewed as magical artifacts. Each stone held a small current of magic embedded inside from their creator. Just holding his hand in front of them, he could feel the magic of his brother and his two cousins mingling with his own, almost reaching out to touch him. An unintentional smile lit his face as contentment washed over him in steady waves, the feeling of air surrounding him in a gentle embrace, and a steadiness in the ground. It was almost as if the four of them were reunited again, and he loathed moving and lose the feeling he felt by the magic not his own.

However he was forced to back away as the dial began spinning on its own, and the door made a soft click as it slid open. Chris found himself staring into a shimmering pool of liquid that had almost a mother of pearl sheen, and he realized why the door was stationed against a solid wall instead of leading somewhere. It was merely a portal, a doorway that lead to another location, much like the one on Damien's residence. Phoenicia emerged from the shimmering portal, seemingly content to ignore his presence as she closed the door behind her swiftly. She seemed slightly out of breath, her clothes and her hair both soaking wet, dark strands clinging to the skin of her cheeks and her forehead as small rivulets of water silently dripped down her back. She spun the dial several times before stepping back and waving her hand over her clothes, replacing them with something clean. Finally she turned and acknowledges Chris with a wide smile.

"Good morning, Christopher, Wyatt," she greeted brightly. "How are my two favorite cousins doing today?"

Chris stared at her with exasperation. "What happened?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said airily.

"… Phoenicia," he replied in warning.

With a sigh, Phoenicia untied the small velvet pouch secured to her belt. She reached inside, extracting an exquisite blue diamond roughly the size of a baseball. It was cut beautifully, the dim lighting in the room from the candles and the glowing lights allowing the diamond to shine majestically. Chris stared at the diamond with mutual unease and incomprehension, his sea green eyes switching between the gemstone held in his cousin's slender hand to her face.

Chris shook his head. "What did you do?"

Phoenicia winced slightly. "It is probably best if we never foot in Belgium again. Particularly Antwerp," she informed him solemnly.

"… You didn't," he almost pleaded, groaning when she didn't respond. "Mia!"

"It was only one lousy diamond," the young woman defended. "They won't miss it. Besides, we need it more than they do, and I compensated them for it. After this, they will never have to worry about being robbed again, not with the spells I placed around the building,"

"That's not the point," Chris sighed.

Phoenicia waved flippantly. "Details,"

Chris watched as she manipulated the floor in the center of the room with her magic. The cement began sinking down into the ground slowly until there was a deep incline, and then it began to spread wider in small layers, creating steps leading down to the very bottom of it. She then erected a tall podium in the center of her inverted dais with a small red cloth covering it, walking down the newly formed stairs and carefully placed the flat edge diamond atop of the cloth, allowing for the point to reach for the ceiling. She stepped back a moment later, and with another wave of her hands the diamond was now encased in a glass in a smooth, rounded prism to protect it.

Phoenicia rejoined Chris to observe her creation, smiling with satisfaction. "There. Now we have something to tie the wards to," she declared happily.

"… What am I going to do with you?" he sighed heavily.

"Make me breakfast?" Phoenicia suggested cheekily, nudging him gently with her elbow. She reached for Wyatt, making cooing noised as she absently conjured up a playpen for him. She set him down in the glorified prison, and the way she smiled at Wyatt was a bit strange, almost amused. When the toddler was settled unhappily in the pen, Chris was immediately wary of the speculative look she aimed his way. She stalked toward him like a panther on the prowl, and he stumbled back, belatedly realizing that was exactly what she had wanted.

Chris scowled as he found himself falling into the seat of a chair, especially when the arms of the chair came to wrap around his middle, securing him and his arms in place. "Phoenicia," he gritted out, struggling to move only to sputter in shock as she poured a glass of water over the top of his head, _ice cold water._ Glaring murderously at his cousin, he watched with trepidation as she approached, some kind of jar held in her hand.

"Yes, Christopher?" she asked pleasantly, removing the lid of the jar and smearing some of the balm into the palms of her hands, before he was suddenly spun around so that she was at his back. "Sorry about the water," she said insincerely, and he tensed when he felt her hands on either side of his head. "Just relax, and… _be quiet._" He opened his mouth to demand an answer to what she thought she was doing, only to find that he could no longer speak. "_Relax…"_

It was a bit difficult to relax when his twin reverted back into a psychotic—oh. _That feels nice.._. Chris unintentionally allowed his eyes to close, no longer fighting against the restraints as Phoenicia worked the balm into his hair, her blunt fingernails scratching pleasantly at his scalp. Whatever it was had a fragrant, herbal scent that was very calming. She tipped his head back gently, and he felt water rinse the mixture away, though her hands returned a moment later to slide through his damp hair, messaging gently, the hair sliding between her fingers.

"Chris," she said softly, her voice no longer cheerful, and in fact somewhat subdued. He wanted to ask her if something was wrong, though his voice still failed him, so he was forced to sit there in silence as she continued her tender ministrations through his hair. "By the end of this day, you are going to be very upset with me. And I want to reassure you, to _promise_ you that it will all work out… but there are some things you will just have to accept. Some things that cannot be undone, not by me or you or even by time travel. You will want to change it, and you will be angry and hurt. I understand that. But it cannot be undone, Chris. It can't be changed… and I'm sorry. I just wanted you to know that."

Phoenicia finally ceased her caressing and backed away, the chair immediately loosening its tight hold on him, and he was slow to move, his mind going over everything she had said and searching his mind for a possible explanation for why she felt he would be hurt and angry. She sounded so sure, sad and definite, and he didn't care if she was an Oracle or not, she did _not_ know everything. He stood up cautiously, walking around the now vacant chair. Her head was downturned, her entire demeanor somber, and he placed gentle hands on her slim shoulders.

"I won't be angry at you," Chris promised her. "No matter what,"

"… You say that now," she said helplessly.

Chris shook his head. "Hey, look at me," He tilted her chin up with his fingers, smiling calmly at her even as she looked as if she may cry for some reason. "Nothing you could ever say or do, Phoenicia, _nothing_ would ever make me angry with you. Annoyed? Yes. Irritated, definitely. But never angry. You're my cousin, my sister, my best friend, and I love you with all of my heart. So how about you give me a smile…" Her lips twitched into a weak smile of their own accord. "… and tell me what the hell you were doing to my head."

Phoenicia laughed a watery laugh, and gestured to the scrying mirror hanging on the wall. He gave her shoulders one last reassuring squeeze, and reluctantly left her side to go peer into the mirror. He snorted in amusement when he realized his hair was now shorter, no longer curling at the base of his neck but now only about an inch long, soft tresses spiked in a wild and stylish peaks that made him look younger, more his real age. When he turned, he found Phoenicia running her fingers through her own hair, small locks of hair falling with every sweeping motion, until she was satisfied. She had made it the same short length as his, the only difference being that she kept her bangs long and allowed them to sweep to the side, leaving only the back to be styled into chic disarray.

"You have no idea how much I've been dying to do that," Phoenicia said seriously, her eyes wide and honest. She giggled as she bounded over to him, looking at her reflection and tweaking a few loose tresses carefully. She then draped an arm over his shoulder, nodding in approval. "We look _damn_ good." she declared.

Chris smiled at her in the mirror. "I feel lighter," he commented.

"Yeah, me too," she agreed.

"Although, you canceled my glamour,"

Phoenicia rolled her eyes. "You look better without it,"

"… We're the same height now," he whined. "Not to mention my skin rivals a vampire." She huffed and waved a hand over him, allowing for a marginal change in his skin tone to give him a slight tan, and add a quarter inch to his height. "Really? After I slave away making a potion that saved your mind, this is the best you got?"

"Be happy I didn't turn you hair pink," she replied sweetly, before giving him a sharp look as he moved to poke her cheek. "Don't even think about it mister! Your glamours are out of vanity, mine are out of necessity."

Chris held his hands out in a show of surrender. He wouldn't have really taken her glamour off, because he knew it would only cause problems. He could deal with his scars being bare, mainly because his slight tan did a pretty good job of masking them. It was a bit awkward though, he had been hiding himself for a majority of the year and it was strange seeing himself as… well… himself. At least he didn't look as horrible as he had yesterday. "You did a good job," Chris told her reluctantly after a moment of silence. "Not just on my hair." He gestured around them, still slightly amazed that she had managed to create this in one night. "Is this for us?"

Phoenicia nodded, her enthusiasm shining in her gray eyes. "Yes, it is! Come on," She gripped his hand, dragging him to the door with the dial. "See this here, this is our all in one portal," she said proudly, though she shot him a sheepish smile a moment later, saying, "I accidentally stole the spell from Damien's mind while he was here. Anyway, look," She reached out and gripped the dial, twisting it until it was on his own hearthstone. It clicked, and the door slid open, revealing a large, empty room that seemed to have an adjoining bathroom. "This is your room. It's not finished yet, I haven't had the chance to give us any furniture..."

Chris stared inside silently, his eyes slightly wide in amazement.

"I made rooms for all four of us, though I figured Leon could use Wyatt's room for the time being," Phoenicia continued. "We can make the furniture for them later this evening. Or rather, you can, because I'll probably be exhausted by dinner time."

"Mia… there are no rooms behind this door," he pointed out. "It's a wall."

Phoenicia smiled placating, patting his shoulder. "Of course it's a wall, Chris. And behind that wall is just empty space filled in with gravel and rock and dirt. This would explain why I was outside writing sigils and runes into the ground for four hours this morning, creating four separate displacement junctures beneath the soil to connect with the corresponding hearthstones on the miscellany mechanism." She grinned when he continued to stare at her, as if waiting for an explanation he could actually understand. "The door leads to pocket dimensions, Chris,"

"… Oh." He cleared his throat. "Sounds like you have it all figured out."

"I do," she assured him.

"Now if only you could spout some of that magical psychobabble to the sisters to convince the sisters to come with us when we leave," he sighed. Phoenicia stared at him steadily, smug grin in place and an eyebrow quirked. "You already have something planned, don't you."

"They are coming with us,"

Chris blinked at her. "… Did you just give away the future without scrambling the words?"

"No," Phoenicia countered easily. "After what I have to offer them, you don't need _me_ to tell you that they will come with us." She smiled at his wary confusion. "_Ask and you shall receive… the answers to all of life's mysteries revealed. Only one chance to ask your heart's desire, so take heed… choose carefully, your one question, for all is not what is believed._"

Chris frowned unhappily, mentally attempting to decipher the prophecy. "I… what does that mean?"

"You will understand it later," she said softly.

Chris would have contemplated it longer if given the chance, however he was interrupted by the sound of frantic footsteps overhead. He quickly retrieved his brother from the playpen, slightly surprised to find that the child had remained silent for so long, especially since Chris had forgotten all about making them all breakfast. Adjusting Wyatt in his arms, the three of them made their way sedately up the stairs, only to be immediately confronted with a fear stricken Piper clutching onto a small blue blanket that belonged to Wyatt.

Piper spotted them the moment they entered the kitchen. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she snapped, bounding over to take her child from his arms. Chris let her do so without any resistance whatsoever and made sure to school his features carefully blank as she stared at him accusingly.

"You were asleep and he was fussing," he told her quietly.

Now that her son was secured in her arms, her initial anger and panic began fading. "What were you doing in the basement?" she asked in a more civil tone, though there was still some bite to it. "And what is all of this," She gestured to the materials arranged on the countertops that.

"I converted the basement into living quarters for us future folk," Phoenicia said coolly, her arms crossed over her chest as she stared her aunt down challengingly. "These items are necessary for a cleansing rite to rid the house of any and all unpleasant or unwanted magical residue, and then I will cast wards around the manor to prevent anymore unwanted attacks from ever happening again."

Piper stared uncomprehendingly at her. "Excuse me?"

Phoenicia ignored her in favor of taking a seat in one of the bar stools, conjuring her and Chris each a fruit smoothie and some honeyed toast. He gave her a look, and she brandished a brightly colored straw in her defense. "I need carbohydrates and protein if I'm going to pull this off, mister," she said, dropping one end of the straw in her drink. "You can cook another day,"

Chris shook his head though he accepted the smoothie.

Phoenicia sipped at her breakfast and began inspecting all of the materials for the cleansing carefully, just in case Chris had forgotten something. Finding everything to her satisfaction, she banished her empty glass and hefted the large bag of salt into her arms, tearing it open. Spirals of small grains rose at her silent command, the tendrils spinning in place until all had gather in the air, the bad left empty. She flicked her eyes to the herbal mixture Chris had prepared, causing the finely graded leaves and petals to rise and join the salt. Abruptly the small cloud broke apart and raced throughout the entire house in a whirlwind of motion. It lined the edge of each wall, coating the seams of the windows and doors with thin lines, even seeping into every crack and imperfection of the floorboards, walls and ceilings until every part of the house had been equally treated.

Nodding her head in approval, and inhaling deeply, she reached for another item from the small pile. A solitary white candle, scented with the same herbal remedy Chris had prepared for the salt mixture. She placed the candle in the center of an ivy wreath and arranged five small branches of holly, birch, oak, ash, and hawthorn into a pentagram around the candle. Blowing gently at the wick, she altered the temperature of the air so that it caught fire, the small flame flickering obediently.

"_Cleanse away the taint in this dwelling as I bade. So mote it be._" She intoned simply, voice steady and clear.

The subtle but steady hum of magic swelled around her, the caster, before it began creeping outward. The magic manifested itself with a pearly glow and it flowed throughout the house, brushing against the herbs and salt, absorbing them into the wood and plaster of the building, deep within the foundation and structural core, purifying every corner of the manor. As the light crept deep within the basement, an unexpected wail could be heard from within, the purifying magic encountering something dark and tainted there. The screech abruptly fell silent as whatever creature dwelling inside was completely obliterated and the magic reentered the kitchen as was subsequently absorbed into Phoenicia's body as the cleansing was complete.

Phoenicia eased herself back onto the stool with a greedy inhalation of air.

"… What was that?" Piper asked quietly, clutching her son to her chest.

Lazily, Phoenicia peered up the older woman through her bangs. "That was magic in one of its simplest forms," she said pleasantly. "Amazing what a fraction of magic and a few spices will do, huh? Something to look forward to if you come with us," she added.

"PIPER!"

Phoenicia cast her gaze to the ceiling and rolled her eyes. "It was nothing, Aunt Paige!" she shouted up at her. "Go back to sleep." However the other woman was already bounding down the stairs, skidding to a stop in her socks and a silk and lacy night gown, her face alert and she surveyed the room for a threat. Phoenicia sighed, offering her a chair. "Have a seat," she said calmly. Paige obeyed without delay, still a bit too disoriented to do much else. She mumbled something in question, gladly accepting the cup of warm coffee placed before her.

"I think our niece just killed the Woogie," Piper said dryly, her face twisted in disbelief. "With a candle and some table salt," Paige blinked, pausing in adding sugar to her coffee, before she shrugged dismissively. Piper sighed, watching as the culprit leafed through the other items remaining on the counter.

"Chris," Phoenicia said curiously. "Where is the _Tome of Soloman?_"

"Couldn't find it," he said around a bite of toast.

Phoenicia turned to him in agitation. "You mean I have to do this from _memory_?" she asked him, her voiced laced with the appropriate amount of aghast. She scowled at him when he only shrugged, seemingly unconcerned that she could make a fatal mistake that actually _drew_ demons into the house without using the book as a reference. The last time she had done something like this, she had a book and three very concerned and worried boys hovering around her, commentating and nagging at every little thing she did. If she could handle her cousins and brother leaning over her shoulder while trying to cast wards, she could certainly do it without the damn book.

Selecting the four small diamonds she had pilfered earlier this morning out of her velvet pouch, she tossed them into the air and with a twitch of her fingers they each broke apart into tiny glittering fragments. Allowing the dust to hover in the hold of her telekinesis for a moment, she took hold of the athamé Chris had set out for her. She gripped the handle tightly and drew the blade across the fleshy palm with precision. She heard her aunts draw in sharp breaths though Chris remained silent and shot them both a look to ward them off of interfering with the rite. Blood pooled as she held her hand out, and she mentally guided the sparkling diamond dust. She gritted her teeth in pain as they fell into the open wound but she dutifully closed her fingers around them, forming a tight fist and thus embedding the fragments even deeper. With a calming breath, she channeled her magic from her core and through her arm, the tingle of it easing the burn of the diamonds.

A moment later she opened her palm. "_Blood set in stone_," she intoned calmly. "_To be placed in the Four Corners._" The blood coated diamonds grew warm against her skin momentarily before she removed them and watched as they began reforming into four whole diamonds once more. Scarlet spider webbed veins were visible in the clear-cut stones, showing exactly where each piece had been separated and doused with her blood. She plucked them right out of the air after blowing on her cut, healing it. "I'll be right back," she told them before she simply faded away.

Piper looked a bit pale in the face when she spoke. "What was that?"

"You just witnessed the making of four bloodstones," Chris told them.

"What are they?" Paige asked, looking a bit squeamish herself.

"A bloodstone is exactly what it sounds like. A stone infused with blood, human blood. When used to create wards, as Phoenicia is, four of them have to be created," he explained patiently. "For the North, East, South, and West corners of the perimeter that you need protecting, as a way to ground the wards efficiently. Think of them… sort of like the poles that hold a fence in place, connecting invisible, magical chain links."

Phoenicia reappeared and moved to slice up some left over angelica root from her cleansing rite. "The wards themselves will have many different layers, all interwoven together so there will be no weak spots, unlike the one up in Elderland, which are just thin shells that are stretched and layered over each other, thus making them easy to break if your know how. The wards I'm casting will have certain attributes, such as the outer ward will be tied directly to the bloodstones I just placed outside. They will serve as a boundary, and it will warn anyone with malicious intent away. I've chosen one that will shock them mildly, almost like an electrical fence without the wire. The more they try to push through, the stronger the current of electricity will become. If they continue to ignore the warnings, the more lethal wards will be activated by the time they reach the front steps."

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Paige interjected. "I mean, what if these things fry the mailman or something?"

"… Malicious intent," Phoenicia pronounced slowly. "As is, intent to maim, fatally injure and otherwise _kill_ someone within this house. Do you really think the mailman is that angry?" Paige only smiled sheepishly. "Besides we'll be adding one more bloodstone. One that will be different from the corner stones because it will able to weed out the harmless people from the dangerous. Someone with no ill intent at all won't even activate the wards. And if a demon was trying to kill you in the front yard, it would be dust and you wouldn't feel a thing."

"What if someone removes those stones you put out there?" Piper asked reasonably.

Chris shook his head. "That isn't even possible. Someone powerful enough might be able to sense them, though they wouldn't be able to actually see or touch them. Once the wards are in place, only someone blood related to Phoenicia would be physically able to touch them because they're tied to her through her blood."

"Exactly," Phoenicia agreed. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have one more bloodstone to make,"

"Do you want me to…" Chris began, though he trailed of as she only shrugged before retreating down to the basement to finish what she had started. "Never mind,"

Piper looked to Chris questioningly. "This is all… very interesting an all, but those stones won't stop someone from shimmering or orbing in will they? Because they won't be actually crossing your invisible wires, right? And why haven't we heard of these before?" she added.

"Actually, they will prevent teleportation," Chris answered. "In essence, no matter how you travel here, you still have to go through the wards to get onto the property. See the stones may act as the fence, however once they are set they basically encase the entire area in a giant magical bubble. These ward will not only prevent magical attacks or intrusions, they will also restrict spells, so if someone ever did managed to get inside they wouldn't be able to do anything at all."

"How will you, Leo and I get inside then?" Paige asked curiously. "When we orb in?"

"Phoenicia will be keying all of us into the wards. It will make us exempt from all of the restrictions, so we can come and go as we please via any form of magical transportation, with the exception of being summoned outside of the house, like Mia was yesterday. We can still feel if someone tries to summon us, though we can choose to ignore it or allow it to take us. And you probably _have_ heard of them," Chris told her. "There is an entire passage in the _Book of Shadows. _Though I don't think Gra—your Grams ever cast any because to certain people it is considered to be borderline dark magic because it requires blood. Which is entirely hypocritical because any spell with real power behind it calls for blood," he huffed.

Paige stared at him for a moment. Then she turned to Piper, holding her cup out. "Can I have more coffee? I think I have a headache…"

"I'll make another pot," Piper declared.

"By the way Chris," When he looked at her, Paige smiled. "Your hair looks nice,"

The comment earned her a rare smile.

While Piper was busy preparing the coffee Chris sat quietly on the stood next to his brother's highchair. The small blond boy was staring at him with unnerving intensity. Had it not been for Phoenicia's cleansing spell he would have thought that the child was under some kind of possession or influence, though that was impossible because the spell not only eradicated anything bad from the house but from its inhabitants as well. Perhaps Wyatt was feeling the connection they shared, and was curious about it, trying to disconcert what it was exactly and why they shared it.

Chris knew that he and Wyatt's bond had been just as damaged as his and Phoenicia's had been when he had traveled across time, probably worse since Wyatt's soul was severed into two halves. But that didn't mean it would be so damaged here, where his brother's should was still completely intact. Chris figured it must be confusing for the toddler to suddenly feel some stranger sharing a familial bond with him. It was probably the reason Wyatt had responded so violently to him when he had first arrived. Chris' abrupt appearance had confused the boy so much that he had not known how to react to him.

Meeting his brother's bright blue eyes, Chris gave him a genuine smile.

"Piper!" Paige's urgent voice cut through his musings like a sharp knife and the smile fell from his face as he stood, prepared to go running, however she was already rushing into the kitchen. The _Book of Shadows_ was held in her hands, and she was flipping through the pages with a wild look in her eyes. A moment later she slammed it down on the counter. "I wanted to check for wards but look! There's nothing here... it's completely blank!

"What?" Piper joined her in flipping through the pages. "I don't understand. How did this happen?"

Chris had an inkling of why the Book had been erased, and he reached over and snatched it up from their frantic hands before they tore it apart in their panic. Before they could protest, he had spread the Book out on the surface of the counter in front of him and held a hand over the open pages. "_Activate._" he said evenly, with intent, watching with satisfaction as the missing words began to reappear, almost as if thousands of invisible paint brushes were being drawn over the blank sheets of paper.

Piper placed her hands on her hips and stared down her nose at him. "What did you do?"

"Phoenicia cast some protective spells on it," he placated. "Hold your hand over it and say _deactivate_ and it will go blank again. If she used the same spells that were on the Book in the future, then if someone… unsavory ever got ahold of it, they would probably think it was just a decoy or something." He gave the heavy tome a speculative look, noting that it seemed larger than before. "I believe she may have cast the self-updating spell on it too. You basically have access to every magical book on the planet now," He grinned. "She probably cast the return to owner spell as well,"

Paige rubbed at her temples. "Is my coffee ready yet?"

"Want to see something cool?" Chris asked his mother and his aunt. They eyed him curiously and without suspicion for once, apparently their curiosity overruling their wariness of him. Holding his hand over the Book once more, he recited clearly, "_Search: warding._" Immediately the pages began turning at his command until he was almost at the end of the book. "Here," he said, turning it toward them. "Anything you ever needed to know about warding. It's not exactly the same as what Phoenicia is doing, because she's going to be modifying it to her liking, but it's the same concept. I'm going to go see if she's started on the runes yet…"

Phoenicia was sitting on the steps leading to the diamond podium when he arrived downstairs. The noticeable streaks of scarlet throughout the diamond and her pale skin were a testament that she had already created the fifth and final bloodstone for the wards. She had already begun working on the rune matrix for the core, her arm alit with a white hot energy as she poised her hand in front of her and began tracing a circle—a glassy substance, displaced air, trailed behind her finger before it began glowing.

Nodding to herself in approval, she swiped her hand through the circle to erase it. Chris watched her silently from the base of the stairs as she began to craft two identical runes for the core in midair, the baseline of the matrix. They hung a small distance away from each other, only one foot apart, both facing opposite directions. She then sketched two more for protection and this time she waved her hand over them, reducing the size of them before duplicating the same rune a thousand fold, and then evenly spacing them around the two base runes in a spiraling pattern similar to that of a double helix. Runes for providing sanctuary were added next in the same way. She continued adding to the sequences until the bases were connected by glowing strands of almost unreadable runes.

Over the next hour Phoenicia continued to add runes and sigils, duplicates of the same runes all interwoven together to reinforce the protection, building onto the helix, modifying it, until it was a large globe that hovered in front of her. She would use glowing hands to spin it into different positions and draw a short row of symbols before carefully guiding them into the sequence she wanted. The whole process of channeling raw magic through her hands was tiring so Chris made sure to provide her with some high calorie sweets when she started to feel faint from the strain.

Once done constructing the core, she began the long chant that activated the dormant spells in the runes. Runes themselves were only symbols that stood for words, though when written with magic they were embedded with a spell that would do exactly what the rune said. Writing long sentences with runes, such as the sequences Phoenicia had crafted, only served to make the spells more accurate, such as adding a protection rune with one of harm and magic—it would prevent any physical or magical harm. These wards would be nowhere near as sophisticated as the wards around New Avalon, though with the runes she had added, it was still an impenetrable haven.

Phoenicia was sweating profusely when she had finished the first stanza of the chant. By the time she began intoning the third her body was convulsing with something akin to electrical shocks, not unlike the ones she had written into the core of the wards. When she began reciting the fourth and final verse, Chris had already interrupted her a grand total of eight times to give her the sugary candies in an attempt to keep her conscious enough to finish.

"_So mote it be._" she whispered finally, and Chris dove to catch her as she slumped over.

The rune matrix practically hummed with power as the runes began glowing, almost blindingly. It suddenly began to expand, the sequences growing larger though keeping their integrity, the magic pulsing and phasing through the solid walls and floors with ease as it continued to enlarge. The matrix encompassed the manor, maneuvering throughout as though it were nothing but a trick of the light, until it had become too large for the house to hold and then continued to expand outside. The dawning sun masked the blatant display of powerful magic from curious mortal eyes, and by the time the wards had spread to the boundaries provided by the bloodstones, it had already grown to an incredible size in diameter, surrounding the house in a protective barrier from all angles.

Just as the visible evidence of the wards began faded outside, the diamond bloodstone in the basement suddenly came to life. It alighted itself with a blazing whiteness and Chris had to shield his eyes as the entire room was lit up, cementing the protection to the one point over the spiritual Nexus, which only increased the strength of it significantly. The light died down just as suddenly as it had appeared, leaving behind a gently glowing bloodstone, humming with the thrum of magic.

A floorboard groaned in the general direction of the stairway as Chris gently laid his cousin out on one of the chaises, arranging her gently before looking up to meet the eyes of his father. Leon crept further inside, faltering slightly as he took in the changes to the basement with a single glance, before he took Chris' lack of protest as consent to approach. The older man sat himself down on the floor on the opposite side of Phoenicia's prone form and took her limp hand into his own.

"Did it go well?" he asked, his voice full of grim understanding.

Chris nodded shakily. "It would have gone better if she hadn't spent all morning creating this place," He gestured around the refurnished and expanded basement. "But that is moot point now. She did better than I did when I cast them around the cave. It took a few ten minute breaks before I could finish one stanza. She did it with minimum pause and only stopped for a few brief moments to accept the candy. though in my defense, I had _no _candy when I cast mine..."

"I never understood why people needed candy when casting wards," Leon admitted. "I thought it may have just been a quirk of yours." He glanced down at Phoenicia. "Now… now I'm not so sure."

"It not so much the candy we need, as it is the energy we get from the sugar," Chris explained, "It takes a lot of magic to cast a ward itself. Even the simplest ones are physically draining. Sugar and caffeine provide quick energy, which is why energy drinks are… convenient."

Leon smiled at him. "I remember when Wyatt gave you that energy drink during his birthday party. You were nine, or ten, I think," He laughed, shaking his head. "I'm pretty sure he regretting making you hyper when you threw that fireball at that huge ice sculpture he made of himself."

"I was only trying to help him with his big head," Chris said innocently, though there was a certain amount of smugness in his tone. "You know, it was his fault that you and mom found out about my pyromaniac abilities. I could have hid them longer had he not managed to make me so hyper,"

"He was only trying to include you," Leon pointed out hastily. "He was tired of you not wanting to attend his parties since his were…"

Chris smiled, answering for him. "… More extravagant," He heaved a sigh and shook his head. "I never blamed him for exposing my powers to everyone. In fact I actually thought it was kind of funny," He admitted with a laugh. "The look on mom's face when she found out that I _actually_ had powers…" He trailed off, recalling everything that had happened that day. It hadn't been very funny at all, and saying that it had was more of a halfhearted attempt to make the severity of that day seem less then what it was and they both knew that.

Leon was only silent for a moment. "I'm sorry—"

"Don't," Chris interrupted softly. "It's all in the past, or the future… or whatever. Just forget it."

"Chris…"

Glaring, Chris shook his head. "I said don't! Leave it alone or go!"

The older man pressed his lips together in a thin line and lowered his eyes, falling silent. Chris took a quelling breath and closed his eyes, mentally reciting all of the ingredients for his homemade peanut butter fudge brownies in an effort to calm himself down before he managed to do something he would regret. By the time he was halfway through the recipe, he felt Phoenicia begin to stir. Her mismatched eyes sought him out immediately, and she smiled at him as he silently passed her the can of caffeine and sugar.

"Better?" Chris asked in amusement as she practically inhaled the drink.

Phoenicia nodded tiredly. "Now I know why we never did this to the house before," she grumbled. "It was hard enough with four of us the first time…"

Chris snorted and helped her into a sitting position. "What next?"

The young woman tilted her head thoughtfully. "_Ask and you shall receive… the answers to all of life's mysteries revealed. Only one chance to ask your heart's desire, so take heed… choose carefully, your one question, for all is not what is believed._" She looked at Leon, who stared at her with the same lost expression as Chris had. "Speak with Leo," she advised. "You will need to decide carefully what you want, uncle. _Only once chance to ask your heart's desire._" she repeated gravely.

Leon nodded somberly, knowing in his heart that she was imparting some wise information even if he didn't realize it yet. He bid them both goodbye a few moments later and ventured off to find his younger counterpart. Phoenicia watched him go in approval, knowing that he would eventually figure it out. Chris would know as well, she knew, as soon as she spoke to the sisters in a few moments. After the first sentence, he would understand, and he would realize that this is what she had planned since before he had even administered the potion. And he would rage by the end, scream and yell, hurting inside.

Without further prompting Phoenicia rose to her feet and began her ascent up the stairs, Chris following behind her in puzzlement. Her mother and Leo had joined the congregation, just as she knew they would. Giving each a pointed look and implanting a very subtle suggestion into their minds with her telepathy, she led the way into the conservatory. It was one of the largest rooms in the house and could fit them all comfortably. She faced away from them all for a moment as Piper placed Wyatt in the baby pen near the sofa, her head bowed as she steeled herself for what she was about to do.

It would hurt her psychologically and emotionally but she had known that from the start and was why she had slipped a phial of her potion into Chris' jacket pocket earlier as she had passed by him. He had not felt it go in, though if she began to lose her hold on reality again, if it came to that… he could administer the potion in a timely fashion. She hoped he wouldn't need it.

Feeling resolved in what she had to do, as well as a bit resigned, she turned around and faced the few members of her family. When she opened her eyes they were no longer unique and eerie blend of gray and blue. The whites of her eyes had completely eclipsed all color, leaving only the milky expanse filled with power and glowing with a deep rooted knowledge that spanned well over the beginning of time. "**Your questions are mine to answer**," she said softly, her voice taking on a tone that was borderline ancient. "**I see all that is, all that was, and all that has not yet come to pass.**" Phoenicia observed them with an air of detachment, absorbing the mixed reactions of confusion and revelation. "**I deem you worthy.**"

"I don't get it," Paige muttered, looking completely bewildered.

"An Oracle is allowed to impart the answer of a single question to those she believes worthy to receive such a gift," Leon said clearly with a hint of awe. He had never once thought that his niece would choose him for such an honor, despite the fact that they were family. "She gathered us all here because she's going to grant each of us one our one question."

"Why only one?" Phoebe asked him curiously. "Wouldn't it be better to ask more than one?"

"Because," Chris interjected quickly just in case Phoenicia actually decided to answer it out of spite instead of granting her mother a real question. "Oracles rarely intentionally tap into their full potential because it can be very damaging if they stay in the beyond for too long." Sensing another question, he explained before they could even ask. "The beyond is a realm where time is irrelevant. Only Oracles can stay inside for more than a second at a time without going insane, and event hen there is still a chance that they could. That is another difference between Seers and Oracles. Seers can only glance at the beyond while Oracles can enter it. You, Phoebe, can't even reach it. Your premonitions come from distorted echoes cast from the chaotic residual magic of the beyond."

Phoebe seemed to grasp the idea faster than her sister did, though only because she experienced her own brand of visions on a regular basis and new just how chaotic and changeable they could be. "So we get to ask one question, anything we want to know, and she will answer it despite any and all so called future consequences."

Chris gave his aunt a look of newfound respect, slightly impressed how she had managed to make the question sound more like a rhetorical statement so that Phoenicia wouldn't answer it. "Exactly." he agreed. "When an Oracle chooses to give you information, all consequences are voided by her magic, nulled completely. Anything we ask her can actually be used to change the _set_ future. Her magic will allow us the chance to change what the Fates have already decided. And that, right there, is why Oracles are so highly sought after."

"And the reason she's doing this…"

"Because," Chris said, allowing a smug smirk to grace his face. "She knows that whatever you ask will somehow impact your decision to join us when we leave."

A mutual silence fell over them all as they contemplated their questions, and Phoenicia just waited patiently for them to find the right question. She already knew that Piper, Phoebe and Chris would all choose questions out of selfishness, though no less relevant to their cause, and she understood their reasoning and was prepared to answer them. Though she was partially glad of what her cousin would ask, as it would save them a lot of time. Leon and Leo would have to share the question, however. As an Oracle, Phoenicia was bound by the Rule of One, something that Chris had neglected to explain. She could only answer _one_ question for _one_ person, and as the two versions of her uncle were technically the same person, she could still only grant one.

However she knew that the two men would choose the perfect question so she wasn't particular worried that they would only be able to ask a single question. It was their question that would cause Chris to become angry, to cause his outrage and upset him so much. Similarly, Paige would choose a relevant question as well. Phoenicia was very pleased to say that, though it wouldn't be earth shattering, it would definitely earn the help of the Charmed Ones on their impossible mission.

Piper was the first to step forward. "Is…" she began as she twisted her fingers, face tense with mutual anticipation and resignation. "Is what Chris said true? Is my baby, my Wyatt… evil?"

Phoenicia only gave her a subdued nod. "**As you wish,**"

The Oracle made an elaborate sweeping gesture at them before bringing her hand to touch her forehead as her magic flared around her. All suddenly became aware that they were paralyzed in place, unable to move the slightest fraction as the world went white around them. While the sisters instinctively fought against the force holding them immobile, the others stood completely still, managing to keep calm, knowing it would be futile to fight against the time magic of an Oracle. Technically speaking, they were no longer in their physical bodies to fight against it anyway. They were now inside a small part of her mind, one that was linked directly to the beyond.

Then the images began to appear, along with the rush of emotions and vague impressions of thoughts…

_At the age of one when his baby brother had been born, Wyatt swore that he would do anything within his power to keep him safe. He had only been an infant then, and now, at the age of nineteen he was in charge of his own army, a group of people who listened to him and obeyed his commands. And yet, Wyatt was beginning to doubt himself… as was his Empire. According to his advisors, he refused to deal with certain threats to his regime… otherwise known as the Resistance, a group consisting of a mixture of demons and whitelighters and witches and even a few of the more tolerant mortals, and the demonic army known as the Horde._

_The reasoning behind his refusal to decimate the other two sects standing in the way of his path to world domination were entirely personal matters. Besides, he already own a fourth of the world, and he honestly had his hands full dealing with that portion, why would he want more territories unless he was reclaiming it from the mortals? His advisors had no business interfering with his decisions. And it was his decision to form an alliance with both the Resistance and the Horde, despite his council's reservations._

_It helped that the leader of the Resistance happened to be his uncle, and the Horde was under the thumb of his cousin, so it seemed unnecessary to even think about removing them from the equation. While he and Luke were not on the best of terms, if they had ever been, Wyatt had no desire to see his cousin dead. It would also make Phoenicia very unhappy should he ever allow Luke to come to harm at the hand of his Empire. The resistance was another matter altogether. His uncle may have been the one in charge, who gave orders and assigned missions, he dealt with the politics… however Wyatt's own little brother was their saving grace._

_He was their light._

_Wyatt understood their reasoning, because he knew his brother well enough to know that people only had to be around him for a few minutes and the boy would permanently endear himself to them. Why else would over two hundred witches and demons joined his cause, despite the fact that Wyatt knew a majority of those men had been in his army prior to the mass escape at a magical holding facility? They had not joined the Resistance because of their low mortality rate or the housing arrangements… they had joined because they were following his brother. His baby brother was special that way._

_And while he would admit to himself that it had hurt when his brother had stayed with the Resistance rather than join him, Wyatt was willing to accept that. In a show of good faith, he had willingly extended a hand of… not quite friendship, more of a hand of cooperation, to the Resistance. Unfortunately when he had come here tonight to inform his council of that matter, they had not been pleased. He suspected that they had their own agenda whereas his Empire was concerned, and Wyatt did not approve. While he would willingly, and without any remorse, attack and kill the mortals who were attempting to purge all those who hold even the faintest traces of magic, Wyatt saw no need to kill their own kind without cause._

_Apparently his advisers believed that it was his regard for his brother that was creating some kind of moral conflict inside of him, that his brother was the only thing keeping him tied to his humanity. Perhaps they were right, and maybe his little brother was the only reason he thought twice before setting out to destroy a city, or the annoying voice of reason in the back of his mind that asked him if he had thought something through and if he should really be doing something. However they wanted him to eradicate this conflict._

_They wanted him to eradicate his brother._

… _and that was simply unacceptable._

_Lifting a single hand languidly, Wyatt made a sharp twist with his wrist and his dark eyes gleamed with grim satisfaction when he heard a resounding crack as the neck of the adviser who suggested it suddenly wrenched itself around. The body fell to the floor as the rest of the council stared on with unreadable faces… though their eyes gave away their fear. Reiver should have known better than to suggest the execution of his brother. He had been here longer than the others had, and he had seen what Wyatt had done in the past to protect his family. Perhaps the warlock had hoped he had outgrown his protectiveness, unfortunately enough for him._

_Wyatt lifted his hand once more, feeling a particular sense of control when the entire room suddenly tensed with terrified anticipation. He snapped his fingers and they all cringed, apparently expecting to find the person next to them with a mangled neck and falling to the ground. Instead, the air next to Wyatt became distorted, almost glassy and shimmering as a young man with smoky green eyes and a disgruntled expression appeared._

_Isaac yawned loudly, sparing the table a look of disinterest, before he glared at his friend crossly._

"_What?" the younger man asked rudely. The council tensed again, having witnessed their leader's temper and assuming that the newcomer would meet the same fate as the corpse on the floor. If anything, however, the mighty Lord of Darkness seemed amused. "I just got 'Saiah down for a nap, and if he wakes up, you are totally watching him while I catch up on some sleep!"_

_Wyatt's eyebrows knitted together at the thought of babysitting his godson. He was not adverse to the idea, though he was not sure if he could be trusted with an infant. And he wasn't sure why Isaac of all people, the one person who stood beside him through all that had happened, who had seen him at his worst… would trust him to watch over his son, especially with everything that had been happening recently. _

"_Dispose of this body," he said casually. "I have no use for a corpse."_

_Isaac huffed and folded his arms chest. "What did this one do?" he asked, making no move to obey._

"_He threatened my family," Wyatt informed him, voice laced with a dangerous edge._

_Isaac could only nod. "Of course he did," he muttered disdainfully. With a tired sigh he stepped over the body on the floor and hauled it over his shoulder. Before he left, he looked at the remaining councilmen. "A bit of advice, gentlemen," he said. "His family isn't any of your concern. And it doesn't matter how long you have been at this table… if Wyatt doesn't kill you for threatening them—which he will, of course—then you still have to deal with me." He gave them all a chilling smile. "Remember that, because I really don't feel like coming back for the rest of you. Have a nice evening,"_

"_Now," Wyatt said offhanded once his friend and the corpse were gone. "Where were we?"_

…

_It had taken them less than five minutes to break the wards around the city. Apparently these mortals had not bothered to find out that reading and manipulating magical signatures was one of his specialties and it hadn't helped that their infused rogues and the converts were completely inept at casting wards. They had cast them layer upon layer, making each thread frayed and easy for him to breach. His youngest cousins could have broken them._

_As they wondered covertly throughout the city, Wyatt ordered his men to split up and search the area, and most importantly, to keep their guard up. While the rogues and betrayers were but a mere annoyance to him, they could still easily overpower his forces, despite the fact that he had only brought his most devoted and powerful generals to accompany him on this mission. Unfortunately, there had not been much intelligence to go upon; they did not know the number of enemies within this sector or what their training might entail, and what little they did have could have just as easily been false and misleading, luring them into a very elaborate trap._

_One wrong move and Wyatt could very well lose a quarter of his army, and they would all probably be shoved into a prison cell, with antimagic wards ingrained into metal and slapped around their wrists along with a chip in their heads. It had occurred to him that he himself could be faced with any number of situations, most of them fatal to his person, though he wouldn't let that stop him. This was his cousin, his responsibility. He couldn't let her suffer for any longer than she already had. He refused. Phoenicia should not have been locked away in here to begin with, and now that he had a location, via Isaac and his brother who had both been a part of the escape recently, he vowed that he would get her out._

_The courtyard he and his own personal team—which consisted of Havoc and Mikhail—encountered had a long and winding path that led directly up to the large pristine building that seemed to have a distinctly ominous feel about it that had all three of them on edge. They approached it cautiously, and Wyatt nodded to his men, who broke apart and stealthily skulked closer. Moments later three identical yelps of surprise and agony could be heard as three blazing balls of pure energy collided with the men on duty. All three of the guards flew backwards, twisting rapidly in the air from the force. They hit the side of the building simultaneously, their bodies breaking apart into ashes upon the cruel impact._

_Mikhail scouted ahead to survey their surroundings as Wyatt and Havoc trailed behind him cautiously. No alarms had been raised yet and they had not encountered any probes but Wyatt could sense a common magical detection ward near the steps leading to the entryway and was able to deactivate just before they began climbing up. The door itself was a thick blast door, one that could probably withstand a nuclear explosion intact, and it was also heavily warded. There would be no way to disable it with magic and remain undetected, because if any one of them so much as breathed on it, they would doubtlessly be caught._

_After a moments pause of contemplation, as his men shifted behind him uneasily, Wyatt was suddenly struck with inspiration and allowed his gaze to transfer from the door itself to the wall beside it. An eyebrow rose as he extended his senses to the wall, shaking his head in amusement. "Chalk!" he ordered in a harsh whisper, holding his hand out expectantly. When Havoc passed him a piece of chalk, Wyatt moved to sketch a crude outline of a door, just four simple lines all connected together, on the patch of wall… and then he knocked within the rectangle._

_The section of the wall gave away and they entered the building with ease._

_Wyatt found the guard on the inside less than adequate. The man may have been heavily armed with the latest equipment, however the weapon was unwisely holstered and the man himself was engrossed in a magazine. It was all too easy to circle around behind him. Reaching around the guard's neck with one hand, Wyatt clasped his over hand securely over the man's mouth. When his captive struggled, Wyatt squeezed the throat in a tight grip in warning, and when the man attempted to reach for his weapon, one of Wyatt's subordinates stepped forward and held the sharpened tip of a blade a mere centimeter away from his eye._

_When the man finally raised his hands in a show of surrender, Wyatt leaned forward and began speaking in a deadly quiet voice. "I'm going to release your throat just a little. If you make one noise, just one… then Mikhail here is going to mince your eye." The man froze completely, obviously too terrified to even breath with the threat to his eye quite clear. Wyatt loosened his hold slightly. "Now… there is a girl being held in this facility, in some kind of solitary confinement with the high priority cases. She would have been transferred here last week with the rest of the people left behind from the escape in the Mission District. Where is she? Quietly."_

_The guard drew in a shaky breath and shuddered. "I was just told to watch the door. I don't know anything about a girl, or any transfers! I just watch the door, I swear! Give me a break!"_

_Mikhail looked up at Wyatt questioningly, awaiting orders._

"_A break," Wyatt repeated lowly, his whisper promising pain. He rolled his eyes up to his scout. "Let's give him a break, Mikhail." The warlock nodded and wordlessly withdrew his knife from its position near the man's cornea, tucking it within his sleeve. Then without so much as a warning, he caught the man's hand in both of his, and he twisted sharply. The motion broke the thin bone that supported the muscles attached to his thumb. Wyatt held his hand over the guard's mouth as he let out a pained scream, keeping him in place as he flailed. "Do you know how many bones there in the human body? Fragile, if the right amount of pressure is placed. Save yourself the pain. Where is she?"_

_Seconds ticked by and their prisoner was still silently sobbing._

"_Perhaps he needs a little more incentive," said Mikhail gruffly, taking hold of the next finger._

"_No…" the guard whispered, shaking his head furiously, beads of sweat already rolling down his face in rivulets due to his fear. He gasped, gulping down ragged breaths. "Jack… the guard on shift…" His voice was unsteady but coherent enough for them to understand. Wyatt suspected the shock was beginning to set in. "… before me… he said Dr. Brannon brought in a girl… personally…"_

"_What did she look like?"_

"… _dark hair…"_

"_Anything else?"_

"… _the stairs down the hall…" the guard rasped. "… that's all I know! Honest!"_

_Wyatt ignored his blubbering in favor of planning what to do next since he had gotten the information he had wanted to get. He had no further use for the man so he nodded to Mikhail and Havoc who knocked him out with a well-placed elbow to the temple and pulled him into the dark corner of an alcove against the wall so he would be hidden in the shadows. It would have been much easier to kill him, though he loathed to face his cousin's disapproving eyes when they found her if he allowed the useless mortal to die when he was clearly defenseless._

_They found the stairway along the corridor with ease; cautiously making their way down to the lower levels, emotions and instincts on high alert should anything go wrong. The door at the bottom of the stairwell was easy to bypass, and soon they were deep within the facility. A few altercations were expected, and dealt with accordingly along the way, and soon they reached what could only be defined as a sophisticated dungeon. While there was no dirt and grime or iron bars, there was a wide, empty hallway and several rooms made with thick containment glass encased with heavy stone walls, and the air smelled of antiseptics and blood._

_None of the cells were currently occupied however._

_A muted howl of pain reached their ears and the three turned sharply to observe another door at the opposite end of the cell block. Mikhail approached the door suspiciously, his hand raising with crackling sparks as an energyball formed against his palm, ready to strike as he attempted to ease the heavy door open. The door, however, was not only warded against the spell that had allowed them to enter the upper levels, it was also an automatic door that required a biometric scan as well as a keycard, and without both it would be impossible to open. Wyatt frowned as his trusted general looked to him for further instruction, unsure how to proceed himself._

_Another shout echoed from beyond the closed door and without hesitation they each drew their choice weapons as the cries became louder as they neared the obstruction dividing them. All tensed as it suddenly grew silent. Sharp ears head the small beep on the opposite side of the door and a hiss as the heavy steel began to slide open. The new room was dark inside, somewhere overhead was lights flickering with sparks and shattered glass, though it was not bright enough to make anything distinguishable. _

_Wyatt clenched tightly at the hilt of his sword, prepared for anything that could possibly cause such destruction, though instinct led him to believe that it was most likely one of his own kind making an escape attempt. Likewise beside him, Havoc and Mikhail were both prepared to move in for the kill if necessary, though they too thought they had just interrupted an escape, which they would gladly aid in._

_A man in a white lab coat was the first visible figure, though they made no move to attack, because there was a needle pressed into the man's thick neck. Wyatt followed the slender fingers that were wrapped around the syringe with his eyes, up the arm and into a stunningly familiar set of blue-gray eyes that met his own steadily. He lowered his sword and took a half step forward though Phoenicia stopped him with a look. She gave the man a gentle prod between the shoulder blades and he stepped forward slowly, his breath coming out in panicked huffs. From behind her came a small crowd of maybe fifteen or twenty, ranging from children to young adults, all of them most likely captives who she had set free. _

"_Lock the door," she whispered once they were all through, her voice grainy from misuse but coherent. "Now, Dr. Brannon," _

_The doctor visibly shook as he was guided to the control panel beside the door they had all come through. He carefully typed in a code and placed his hand on the pad to scan his biometrics. And then the doors made a small clanking noise as they ground together, locking once more. When it was done, one of the escapees used a pipe to thoroughly disable the scanning pad, thus making the door unusable while Phoenicia pressed her thumb hard on the plunger of the syringe and emptied the sedatives directly into the doctor's bloodstream before she allowed him to drop heavily onto the floor._

_Wyatt approached her carefully. "Phoenicia?"_

"_There are exactly eight minutes, ten seconds until the guards patrolling the high priority ward discover that there is no one in the cells and that all of the research files and every piece of equipment have been destroyed beyond repair," she said in a scratchy monotone voice. "The other teams you have scouting the rest of the city should be swiftly regrouped, and we should continue with our own retreat. Immediately."_

…

_It had been a very long time since anyone could look into Wyatt's eyes and be captivated by the deep blue depths that held such kindness and comfort. It used to be like staring into the ocean, calming and serene with just a touch of majesty, of a quiet power that could overcome any obstacle. A long time... They were now like two identical glaciers made of black ice that could pierce your very soul. And though his eyes may have changed, his ideals different, and his morals almost nonexistent… his hands were still soft. They were still the hands of a healer, hands that carefully brushed back dark hair from her face as he tended to a gash at her temple._

"_Your soul is fractured."_

_Wyatt nodded grimly. "I know,"_

_There was a curious tilt to her head as she observed him. "You will regret it," she told him as he dipped the rag into some water to wash her blood away. He spared her only a small glance before tilting her head even more so he could reach the long thin cut on the side of her neck. "Doing this will not make you happy." The young woman reached up and gripped his wrist, halting his movements, her eyes searching. "Instead you will become cold and bitter. Is this the path you choose?"_

"_I've already done it," he replied dryly, not even bothering to ask how she knew of what he had done. "Hold still."_

"_There is always time," she reminded him. "Rejoining is possible before the spell becomes permanent."_

"_The Empire needs a leader," Wyatt said evenly. "And you two need a brother. I can't be both."_

"_Silly old bear," Phoenicia chided. "You are both."_

_Had anyone else dared to call him that, he would have gutted them on the spot for even daring to think they could get away with it. Instead he reached out and placed his hand atop of her head, allowing his fingers to tease the unruly hair momentarily before he retracted, taking her hands instead to work on her bloodied knuckles. "We'll be arriving at the Bridge soon. I have it on good authority that there will be a Resistance ship there…"_

"_I know."_

"_Of course you do," He shook his head. "You and a few others with be in New Avalon within the hour,"_

"… _Isaac and Isaiah will be among us," she said, tipping her head to the side in thought. "This is unacceptable."_

_Wyatt knitted his eyebrows together. "Why?"_

"_Isaac must stay with you."_

_Setting the bloodstained rag aside, Wyatt reached for some bandages and tape. "Why?"_

"_You intend to stay fractured. He will be needed."_

"_Needed for what?"_

_Phoenicia did not acknowledge the question. "Your mind is made up. I understand._

"_I don't," he frowned. "Explain it to me."_

"_The Future is now set in the Past," she told him. "You must answer the Call when you hear it."_

"_Mia, what are you talking about?"_

_The young woman merely cupped his face between her bandaged hands and leaned up slightly so she could place a soft kiss against his forehead. "You will understand soon, though you will be most upset when you arrive. You will have to wait for the Call before you can interfere. You will need to free the Sabyl from the Tomb of Tears and the Phoenix from the Betrayer's lair, else they will fall and the Twin Lights will never prevail."_

_Wyatt grabbed her shoulders almost urgently, staring inter her eyes as if he was searching for the answers to all his questions inside of the orbs. "What about the Sabyl and the Phoenix, Mia? Where is the Tomb of Tears? Who is the betrayer?" he asked imploringly._

"_You will have to answer the Call," she imparted solemnly. "And you will recognize him by his voice." And with that she promptly laid herself down within the chair, curling into a small ball before her breathing evened out, signaling her slumber. _

_Wyatt sighed, exasperated. "I hate it when she does that,"_

…

The world dissolved around them once more as the future scenes faded back into the conservatory.

"**You have your answer**," the Oracle said. "**Wyatt had always known there was something wrong with him though he often ignored it until it conflicted with his affairs. His mind was fragmented, divided in two. He could be angry one minute and calm the next. After several years of struggling with his own mind, he wanted to purge himself of his condition… spells have never been Wyatt's strongest suit**," She smiled grimly. "**The spell broke his soul into two fragments, two corporeal pieces, when he sought balance. The spell made them as balanced as they could be. One half received his cynicism, the other his optimism. One received his anger, the other his compassion. Both received equal halves of his love for his family and his desire to protect us at all costs. Both received equal parts of his memories, one the good times and the other the bad. They are the same in every way. They are nothing alike. One soul, two minds, two bodies… both are equally vexed when I answer them in riddles before feigning sleep**…"

No one said a word.

Piper's features held a combination of disbelief and shock, her body shaking with effort to keep her equilibrium. Paige and Phoebe seemed to notice this because they each placed a steadying hand upon her shoulder, silently attempting to comfort their distraught sister. Leo was likewise trying to keep himself composed though he seemed to be taking things better than the other three, and Leon and Chris held their faces carefully blank, having already known how Wyatt could be first hand, though they both smiled in faint amusement when she spoke about answering in riddles before pretending to sleep.

Phoenicia allowed the silence for a moment before she spoke again. "**You may ask your next question**,"

**End  
Chapter**

Hello everyone,

This was meant to be posted weeks ago, though it unavoidably postponed due to medical reasons. I was confined to bed rest for a while with nothing but Gatorade and a remote control. Thankfully however I'm on the mend and the next chapter should be up next weekend as well, because it is partially done already. Also, Antwerp has been known as the Diamond Centre of the World for centuries. It is also home to the largest Diamond Museum in the world, in case anyone was wondering why I mentioned it up there...

Part II of this chapter will be up next Sunday!

Lynx


	14. The Cost

**Finding Yourself  
**_The Cost_

**Friday, November 28****th****, 2003  
**No one seemed ready to enter the beyond again, though that was something Phoenicia could sympathize with entirely because even she generally avoided entering it intentionally. If she had not been a telepath with a barricade to protect her, before she had developed her powers of sight, her mind would have been far more damaged due to the onslaught of never ending flashes. Unfortunately due to her telepathy, this experience was likely to be far more worse for them, because they were getting high doses of the emotions and thoughts of what she was showing them, despite the fact that they were only residual impressions of what she felt.

Phoenicia paused as she felt a sudden shift with her connection to the beyond, a small, practically unnoticeable tilt to her head as she sought it out. Oh. She glanced at Paige, who was frowning in thought. Her aunt had been thinking of what she had wanted to ask, and Phoenicia had known that what she wanted to know would not have warranted memories as Piper's had, though it was a relevant question that would have been a major contributing factor to getting the sisters to go with them. However something had changed within the last few minutes, and Paige was no longer certain what she wanted to ask.

_Interesting_, she thought.

Finally when the silence seemed to be too much for them all to handle, Phoebe took a hesitant step forward. Her hands were shaking quite visibly as she looked at the future version of her child. "I'm ready," Her voice broke despite her best efforts and she looked anything but ready to know what she was about to ask, though Phoenicia merely nodded sagely.

"**You have but to ask**."

"… Why do you hate me so much?"

Phoenicia had been expecting this question all along, though hearing it still made her insides churn. "**As you wish,**" And as she had before, Phoenicia made a gesture towards them and touched her forehead. It was much easier this time however, as everyone was expecting the sudden feeling of paralysis and did not fight futilely against it as they were drew into the images as spectators, along with the barrage of vague thoughts and emotions.

_..._

_The young boy could feel it, feel it pulling at his heart in a strange way. He had felt many different things in his short years, fear and pain, anger and hate. But he had never felt anything quite like this. The feeling spread throughout his entire being and it shook him to the core. As he stared down into blue and gray eyes that seemed to be wise in their innocence, he wondered how this human girl could have such an effect on him._

_He was positive that he had never seen her before, was sure he would remember seeing a child so young and helpless and beautiful among the throng of the dying and decayed that his world seemed to radiate. And the Seer was dead so he could not turn to her for answers, to tell him what it was about this girl that called to him and entranced him so. Even if he could, however, he doubted that asked her would be the wisest choice. The Seer often dictated his life and surely she would want to dispose of this child, would want to destroy something that challenged his upbringing and brought out such a feeling within him._

_Two chubby arms rose into the air and he frowned momentarily, indecision written across his face. Hesitantly, he reached down and carefully lifted her up and into his arms, cradling her small head because she seemed unable to do so herself with her frail neck. He brought her to his chest and held her closely, absorbing the warmth of her small body, finding it comforting. Her skin was soft, he noticed, and she gave off a clean, untainted scent that he found pleasant. Small and fragile fingers wrapped around his tatty jacket as he rested his cheek against the small patch of dark hair atop her head._

"_Who are you?" he whispered in confusion. "How are you doing this?"_

_The child made a soft sound and he pulled away to look down at her curiously. A small unintentional smile lit his face when she lifted her fragile hand to his cheek, and he rose his own hand to pull hers away gently, dark brown eyes watching curiously as she wrapped her tiny fingers around one of his own instead. He rocked her gently, unsurely. He had never held a child before and hoped he was doing it right but she didn't seem to mind._

_Petal soft footsteps that would have probably been inaudible to anyone else alerted him to the fact that someone was approaching, and he glared at the pale pink door, as if it was the cause of the interruption. In truth he knew it was likely only the girl's parents. Maybe he could just kill them when they opened the door, take them by surprise. He could stay with her then. His army would never dare challenge his decision to keep a human child. They would probably think her to be a pet. But looking down into her sweet and gentle face, he knew he could not do anything that would eventually bring her pain. It almost hurt him to think that she would be upset by his actions. _

_Reluctantly, he eased her back into the cradle, pulling the soft blanket over her and placing the small stuffed toy closer to her before he accessed one of his abilities, disappearing from sight and into nothingness. He was unexplainably pleased when the child continued to smile up at him, her eyes steadily gazing into his own, despite his invisibility. "I'll come back," he whispered to her in promise, withdrawing his lingering hand before he stepped away from her. The door was opened quietly, a soft light spilling into the room as her parents checked in on her._

_The boy was gone before it was opened all the way, no one the wiser._

…

_Sun shone through the window, glaring down brightly upon the little girl. She was laying down upon the floor on her stomach, long dark hair falling over her shoulders as she used crayons to make the image she wanted on the paper. She looked up periodically at her reluctant model and scrutinized his features for a moment before searching for a dark brown crayon to complete his hair. She chewed on her lip and glanced between her portrait and her companion several times before signing her name at the bottom of the paper._

_Crawling onto her knees she held up the picture and showed it to him. "What do you think?" she asked him._

_The boy stared at the paper blankly before looking at her. "It's good."_

"… _You don't like it." she deducted with a pout._

"_I didn't say that."_

_Rolling her eyes, she said, "You didn't have to,"_

"_Phoenicia?" a voice interrupted and they both looked to the door that led to the kitchen._

"_Yes, Aunt Piper?"_

"_Who are you talking to, sweetie?"_

"_Luke," the little girl answered promptly. "He says my picture is good, but I know he doesn't like it."_

_Piper frowned slightly, and then she kneeled down beside her niece. "And is this Luke?" she asked, taking the portrait from the girl. It was actually a rather good picture, the main features carefully etched if not a bit misshapen. _

"_Yes. That's Luke."_

"_Well, he is very handsome," Piper proclaimed and Phoenicia giggled as the subject of the image blushed under the praise. "Is he a friend from school? I was sure I knew everyone in your class,"_

"_No," she answered. "He doesn't go to school."_

_Piper blinked in confusion. "How do you know him?"_

"_I've always known him," the little girl said brightly. "He's my best friend."_

"_I thought Chris was your best friend,"_

"_Nope. Chris is my twin," Phoenicia pointed out. "Luke is different."_

"_And where is Luke now? Is he going to visit soon?"_

_The child stared at her aunt uncomprehendingly. "Right there,"_

_Piper glanced at the location where her niece gestured, her eyebrows knitted together. "I see. Well Luke, it is very nice to meet you. Sweetie, I'm going to go finish lunch, okay? You and Luke have fun."_

_Phoenicia watched her aunt leave in puzzlement. "What was that about?" she wondered._

"_She couldn't see me," Luke reminded her. "I'm invisible."_

"_Oh," she said sheepishly. "I forgot."_

…

"_Phoenicia, this has got to stop!" her mother said sternly._

"_I'm not doing anything," she answered back evenly, crossing her arms over her chest._

_Phoebe glared down at her. "It's not healthy for someone your age to still have an imaginary friend."_

"_Luke's not imaginary!" Phoenicia said angrily._

"_Then why can't anyone see him?"_

"_Because he's _invisible_,"_

_The woman stared down at her daughter sorrowfully. "This is what I'm talking about Phoenicia. You constantly use that excuse, and you know it's not true. These delusions are hurting you, baby, and every excuse is just an effort to support your elaborate fantasy. It's completely textbook, and it needs to stop. There will be no more talk about Luke, or how he's invisible and you're the only one who can see him. You need to face reality. Luke is not real."_

"_I'm not the only one who can see him," Phoenicia told her. "He only shows himself to people he trusts. And why are you so quick to believe that I'm only making him up or imagining him? You see the future! Should I tell you that it's all in your head? That by saving the people you see die is just supporting your elaborate fantasy? It's completely textbook, mother, and it needs to stop. There will be no more talk about premonitions, or how you're the only one who can see them. You need to face reality. Premonitions aren't real. "_

"_Phoenicia Naomi Halliwell—"_

"_Dad believes me!"_

_Phoebe stiffened noticeably. "Your father's views are unimportant,"_

"_Why, because he left you or because you know he supports me?" she asked scathingly._

_The sound of flesh upon flesh echoed loudly, and the slap seemed to surprise more than just Phoenicia. Both mother and daughter stared at each other for a moment of disbelief and silence before the young girl raised her hand to the already visible red blotch on her cheek. She pressed her cool hand against the hot flesh, betrayal and anger surging through her veins. Her mother had never hit her before, and it was hard to see who was more shocked by it._

"_Baby, I'm so sorry," Phoebe said urgently, reaching for her daughter. "Let me see it,"_

"_Dad asked if I wanted to go live with him," she told mother, calm demeanor belied by the hurt in her eyes._

_Anger renewed, Phoebe looked as if she wanted to slap her again. "Over my dead body!"_

_Phoenicia ignored her mother's indignant statement. "I'm going to tell him yes." Before her mother could object, she was already running to her room so she could begin packing up her most prized possessions._

_It was the morning that the quiet teenager found herself in her mother's car, ignoring the radio in favor of watching the scenery pass by as they drove downtown. She rested her head against the glass and watched as droplets of rain slid down from the earlier storm. She was moving in with her father. She had been so surprised this morning when her mother came in and apologized and told her that if she wanted to live with her father that she would support her decision. And now they were in the car, on their way to his apartment._

_While it was true that she could have just used her powers to transfer herself and her bags to her room of the apartment, she figured the least she could do to make up for her sarcasm the previous night would be to respect her mother's wishes for a magic free environment—which had been the reason for the divorce to begin with. Her mother had been attempting to purge magic from their home for years, which was difficult considering that both her husband and child were magical. Eventually she pushed too far and he had finally given up on their entire relationship. It had placed a strain on her and Phoenicia's as well._

_Being apart for a while would do them all some good._

_Sighing in contentment, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to be lulled asleep by the constant movement as the car drove along the highway, dreaming of all the things she and her father would do when it was just the two of them. _

_Some time later, Phoenicia awoke abruptly to a sharp jab to her arm, and she looked down at the offending area curiously. There was a small red spot on her bicep, and in the center there was blood welling. Eyebrows knitted together, she unexpectedly found herself growing lethargic, the world around her spinning and her head beginning to feel as if it had been stuffed with cotton. It was all very disorienting._

"_Wha…" she murmured in confusion, looking to her mother for help, only to find that her mother wasn't in the car any longer. Instead she found herself looking at a man. He was large, vaguely intimidating, wearing clothes that she imagined belonged in a hospital. He was holding a needle. It clicked in her mind that she had probably just been injected by something, and judging by the way she was feeling she thought it may have been a sedative._

_The car door she was leaning on was suddenly wrenched open, though before she could slip out onto the pavement arms went around her shoulders. She fought against them instinctively and managed to render her assailant unconscious with a single elbow to his temple before she stumbled out of the car completely. Another man came at her from the front as she unsteadily rose to her feet and she grabbed his outstretched arm, twisting it around his back unrelentingly until she heard a small pop followed by a cry of pain._

_Phoenicia spotted her mother being pushed behind another man, and made from him. The question of why her mother wasn't fighting back flitted through her mind but the dizziness combined with her own survival instincts made that question a rather low priority at the moment. The man blocked her punch quite easily, taking her by surprise, though there was a numbness settling into her limbs and she realized that she could not defend herself properly in this condition. She backed away and evaluated a better form of attack._

_Raising her hands, she attempted to place the man in a telekinetic stasis because just because her muscles were heavy didn't mean she couldn't use her magic. Only, to her shock, her magic did not respond to her. She made an angry gesture and felt panic coil in her chest when the men remained unaffected. Obvious that, or whatever reason, her magic was not working, Phoenicia glanced around and counted how many men were left. Four. The one guarding her mother, another one getting out of the driver's side of the car that she knew would be no threat as he moved away to the side, and two more attempting to back her up so they cage her to the side of the car. She allowed it, backing up until her back was pressed against the metal before she twisted and rolled over the top of the hood and onto the other side._

"_CHRIS!" she cried loudly. "WYATT! PAIGE! LEO!"_

_There was none of the telltale signs of white lights or distant bells. Her panic became almost blinding but long hours of secret training with her cousins managed to overcome her fear. Her basic instinct was to save her mother. But in her incapacitated state she was more prey than predator. A momentary retreat would be the best course of action followed by somehow contacting the others and coming up with a plan of rescue. It took her less than two seconds to compose herself and think rationally and by the time her attackers even had a chance to realize she had rolled over the car, she was already sprinting down the partially full parking lot and towards the large gates she could see just in front of her._

_Someone tackled her to the ground from the side when she was less than a meter away from the gate and they both landed hard on the asphalt surface, her cheek impacting and scratching as he tried to pin her down. She hissed in dismay as the gate began sliding back into place, removing the only escape route she could see. Phoenicia growled angrily, and used his weight against him and flipped them over before lifting him by his collar and slamming him back onto the pavement. The blow was not hard enough to kill though definitely enough to keep him on the ground long enough for her to get away._

_A well-executed jump had her halfway up the fence and, with a bit of sluggish effort on her part, she managed to drop to the other side. The distant sound of an alarm reached her ears as she searched for cover. She could not recognize anything and she could feel the adrenalin that was keeping her awake and beginning to wane. She ran, and ran, attempting to use her magic to send her elsewhere though no matter what she tried it wouldn't respond._

_It was as if her powers had been bound. _

"_She's over here!"_

_The shout was far too close for her comfort and she added another burst of speed as she spotted an alleyway further down the road. Looking back, she ducked into the ally and then swiftly closed her eyes, grimacing as she realized it was a dead end with a dumpster. In one last effort, she called upon her elemental magic. Relief filled her completely as it responded to her desperation. She crouched on the floor as she felt the fine hairs on her arms lengthen as she got smaller and smaller. Her blunt teeth grew steadily sharper and her pupils became elongated instead of round. Her body shifted without a sound and she promptly curled into herself, preparing for the final stage of the transformation that she had only recently learned._

_When the man came to the ally, all he found was what appeared to be a small white cat._

_Phoenicia did not even wait until he had left before she rose unsteadily onto four paws, arching her back and allowed the wings to unfurl. With a small flap, she took to the air and began searching for a landmark that she recognized so she could get home to her family before she passed out from the sedatives._

…

_Phoenicia sat in an overstuffed armchair as she stared resolutely out of the window. Her legs were crossed beneath her and her shoulders were relaxed and slouched. She figured if she made it look like she had no intention of attempting to run any time soon that it would eventually put the man behind the desk into a false sense of security when in reality she could be up and out of the chair, and halfway down the hall before he even realized that she had unfolded her legs._

"_May I call you Phoenicia?" he asked her mildly. "Or would you prefer Miss Halliwell?"_

"_I'm not a Halliwell," she said amiably, refusing to look the man in the eye._

"_Ah, my mistake," he said readily. "May I ask why?"_

"_Because when my parents got married we took his name," she said evenly. "Thus, when I was born, I happened to inherit that name. Besides that, I want nothing to do with my mother."_

"_And why is that?" the doctor wondered aloud. "Is it because you believe she betrayed you by wanting to help you, by bringing you here? Because that isn't true, even if you think it is…"_

_Phoenicia inwardly rolled her eyes as she answered. "My mother doesn't want to help me, she wants to control everything in her entire life, and I was in her life so therefore she wants to control me. I thought we were being kidnapped, not that my mother had driven me to a mental institution to have me evaluated and admitted. If she would have been an adult and told me where we were really going I wouldn't have reacted the way I did."_

"_So you believe your mother is at fault that one of my staff had to be taken to the emergency room for severe head trauma, another for a dislocated shoulder, and one more who admitted himself to this very institution, claiming that he witnessed a kitten sprout wings and fly away?" Though he couldn't see it, Phoenicia's eyes were positively smug when she heard the last one. The girl merely shrugged, knowing that it was a response he absolutely hated. "You have quite the imagination, Miss Halliwell."_

_That little snipe… he was trying to bait her. He was trying to get a rise out of her so he could mark his precious little chart and dose her with some drug or another to make her more complicit. Well, if one thing could be said about her, it was that she got her cunning from her father. Lawyers had it in spades. She continued to look out of the window, avidly studying a robin that was building its nest in the trees as she began speaking genially._

"_I suppose you could say that I have a vivid imagination," she allowed. "Though, you could also say that my mother is a manipulative and controlling bitch. First she slaps me for bringing up the fact that my father left her and still supports me, apologizes and agrees that I can live with him, even offering to drop me off there herself and I fell asleep believing that was where I would wake up, only to be rudely awakened by you shoving a needle into my arm. I was already disoriented from sleep, and your drugs only made it worse. All I knew was that people were trying to haul me around like a common criminal while my mother hid behind one of your guards like a coward. I was frightened and acted accordingly. Wouldn't you agree that what she did was manipulative, Mr. West?"_

_Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him twitch when she didn't address him as 'doctor'._

_Score one point for her._

…

_Doctor Richard West gazed through the thick layers of containment glass, which would have been only protection he had against this particular patient, had it not been for the copious amounts of sedatives in her bloodstream. He observed her for a moment, making small notations on his clipboard. When everything seemed to be in order, he looked to the technician at his side. "Is Subject B in place?" he inquired._

"_Yes sir," the nameless tech answered promptly. "Subject B has been placed in the adjoining room,"_

"_Very good," the doctor said, a pleased smile on his face. "Deactivate Subject A's sedatives and open the door."_

"_Yes sir,"_

_Staring at his most coveted patient, Richard watched eagerly as the young woman behind the glass began to stir. She had always been his favorite, since the discovery of magic a year and a half prior. He would admit that he was deeply disappointed that her mental health had begun to deteriorate from the treatments they had mistakenly given her for her supposed schizophrenia. He understood now why she had reacted so violently to the drugs after an in-depth study had proven that those of magical origin had strange reactions to medical stimulation. He was very displeased that she had become so unstable, but there was nothing he could do about that now._

_For the last few months the war had escalated at an astounding scale. It seemed that the other side of the population, the witches and magical beings, had divided their numbers into three large groups. They called themselves the Resistance, the Empire, and the Horde respectively. While they were still a minority compared to all of the normal human beings in the world, all it took was one magical being to wipe out an army of hundreds. Their magic more than made up for their smaller numbers. And now that they had organized themselves… well, after presenting his findings to the government they had approved his frequent requests for funding so he could continue his experimentations, and now he and his Dr. Jeffery Brannon had gained full sponsorship for their research._

_It had taken a his department quite a long time to discover that magic could actually be attributed to genetics, which is how so many witches had been weeded out from the masses. Once he isolated the gene, he had even managed to successfully pass on magic to regular human beings. He presented his findings to President Pratt, claiming that it was a way to fight fire with fire. The only downside to this method was that eventually the magic rejected the hosts, causing extreme paranoia and making them quite unstable after an allotted amount of time._

_Unfortunately magic could not be permanently given to those who did not already possess it. His sponsors had decided that it would waste too much of their resources to further that aspect of his research, unfortunately, and had demanded that he concentrate his efforts on how to better control these abnormal people since trying to reeducate them had proven difficult thought not impossible. These witches were rather intelligent beings, each one testing with high IQs. In his studies, he had found that most of the witches they had captured had produced equally smart children that present with a percentage more magical energy than the previous generation._

_Now, even with all full funding a go-ahead from the President himself, Richard had to conduct his most delicate experiments in secret with minimal staff. If word ever got out to his superiors that he was actually attempting to breed his own magical prodigy child that would put all natural born witches to shame, he would probably not only lose all of his funding instantaneously, as many of his backers were quite religious and would look down on breeding human beings, but he would also be charged with treason and put to death. _

_Richard smiled when the young woman finally opened her eyes. Soon it would not matter that his favorite patient had been reduced to a psycho babbling schizophrenic. She would still be useful to him. And he had hand selected Subject B out of a group of two thousand candidates and had yet to find anyone suitable enough. It helped greatly that Subject B had a preexisting childhood relationship with her. She was still his prized patient after all, no need to make her needlessly uncomfortable._

…

_A single tear ran down the sallow cheek of the young woman as she drew her legs to her chest, wrapping her arms around them as she rested her head against her knees. Her mind was clear for the first time in a long while and she knew she had to begin planning a way to get out of here. Despite this she knew it would be more than nine months before an opportunity to escape would present itself. Even then she would not be among the escapees, for if she did escape at that point she foresaw many people being left behind and suffering in her stead. Doctor West would never let his precious experiment leave the building without retribution. In his twisted view, magic was the future of mankind and she was his way to make it happen._

_How he had managed to keep his true intentions secret for so long was anyone's guess._

_Phoenicia's eyebrows knitted together in concern when she sensed her twin nearby. She suspected him to be in the arena which was a few levels above her own containment cell, though no less deep within the facility. A peek into the beyond had her smiling in an ironic sort of way. Of course Chris would be the cause of the riot in ten months. He was never one to stay idle, he preferred to plan and strategize. Well perhaps she could use his escape to her own advantage then. She knew she could keep the guards busy so a few of the most important people in her life could slip away unnoticed. She herself would have to stay behind to cause the distraction but the others would make it to the outside world and a majority to the Resistance._

_A slight groan to her left alerted her to the fact that her companion was finally waking from his drug induced slumber. Her shoulders tensed involuntarily and she had to forcefully remind herself that he would never had done anything to hurt her had he been in his right mind. It was her that was at fault, not his. She was to blame. Repeating this mantra in her mind until she almost believed it, she breathed deeply and forced her body to relax as he shifted into full awareness. She did not, however, lift her head from her knees as he gazed around in confusion._

"_Mia?" His gruff, grainy voice made her flinch slightly. She hoped that it escaped his notice. "Damn," he swore as he sat up, fingers rubbing at his temples to relieve the intense throbbing. "I feel like I got hit by a bulldozer. What happened?"_

"… _Dr. West commenced his experiment last night," she answered acquiescently, her voice holding no emotion whatsoever, as if she was reciting something that had been written down. "Subject Zero was injected with muscle relaxants and a mild sedative before the dividing door between the rooms was unlocked and opened. Both Subject Zero and A's food was tampered with. Subject Zero was not in need of sustenance last night and offered her food to Subject B. Consequently, Subject B became violent when introduced to four times the dosage than prescribed and Subject Zero was non-compliant though eventually became submissive."_

_Total silence was met by her summary of the events as he tried to work out her meaning. She could almost feel the wheels turning in his head at the words, and that coupled with her bruised and bare back and defeated disposition, twisted into a rather disturbing image. Quite understandably, the man rolled over in the bed and began heaving everything he had ingested the previous night onto the floor._

_Phoenicia pulled the sheet around her body tightly, reluctantly uncurling from her stance. She turned slightly to observe him, hesitantly reaching out to place a hand on his tout back. He grew even tenser from the reassuring touch though he made no move to break their contact. "You must hate me," he whispered in anguish, head dropping over the side of the bed in defeat. "I wouldn't blame you…"_

"… _It was not Subject B's fault." she said reasonably, though her words were shaky at best. It made her words sound less believable, like she was trying to convince herself as much as she was him. It was true though, this was not his fault. This gross violation had been done to both of them and he had no reason to harbor the guilt he bore. She was at fault, because she had known. She had known what would happen and he had not. It was her fault. "I-it wasn't your fault."_

"_Like hell it wasn't," He ground his teeth together angrily. "Why did they do this…?"_

_After staring at his back for a moment, she allowed her hand to grip his shoulder and pull so that he would roll over so she could look at him properly. The familiarity of his smoky green eyes helped her focus as she stared into them, attempting to clear her thoughts. As long as she could concentrate on one thing and one thing alone she could remain in control, if only for a few short moments. "His experiments are for the procreation of a perfect magical child," she informed him faintly. "The aphrodisiacs… in our food… were to…"_

"_Those absolute bastards." He clenched his eyes together tightly. "They were trying… trying to…"_

_Phoenicia nodded tentatively. "The experiment did not… go as p-planed…" She struggled to keep coherent until she could finish explaining. "… but was successful nonetheless." His eyes snapped open as the words registered, staring at her in shocked disbelief. "Conception occurred without additional… coupling. She… I expect birth to occur in exactly two hundred and sixty days, in the tween hours of New Years Eve and Day. Our child will be male, seven pounds, five ounces. Healthy."_

_In a hesitant motion, he reached a hand up slowly to cup her cheek, unsure if doing so would make her uncomfortable or not. He hoped not. To his immense relief she only signed and leaned into his comforting touch, albeit shaking slightly. "I'm so sorry Mia," he whispered. "I'm sorry…"_

_The young woman gazed up at him solemnly. "So am I," she told him seriously. "Must tell no one when we escape,"_

"_I don't see how we could hide it. They're all bound to find out eventually."_

_Phoenicia shook her head gravely. "Allowing them to discover on their own is the wisest, else they will all be most upset…" she said. "In exactly two hundred, sixty-two days, fourteen hours, and two seconds, there will be an escape in one of the levels above us. Chris will be leading them. You will escape with Isaiah and the others." She purposefully neglected to inform him that she would not be able to escape until a much later date when Wyatt came to rescue her. _

"_Isaiah?" he repeated questioningly._

_The young woman sat up and placed a hand over her abdomen. "Isaiah Pavel," she whispered. "Isaiah, savior. Pavel, small. Small Savior…" His hand crept up cautiously to join hers over the life they had created together, however unwillingly it may have been. _

"_Isaiah Pavel Jensen," he said slowly, allowing the name to roll over his tongue, testing it. He met her eyes, a small hint of a smile shining in his own to mask the sadness and guilt. "I like it…"_

…

The world spun on them again as the future scenes faded.

"**You have your answer**," she said calmly, watching with unmerciful eyes as her mother staggered and fell to the floor, her eyes suspiciously wet. "**When I was a child a boy came to me because he felt connected to me somehow. He was a constant companion, and I later confronted him. He had the power of invisibility and he only allowed myself and a few others to know of him. You refused to see him for anything more than a made up friend, because you grew to despise magic and wanted nothing to do with it, despite the fact that your knew it was quite possible for anyone to become invisible given the correct spellwork or potion**."

Tears gathered in Phoebe's eyes and she bowed her head to hide them. A hand rested upon her back comfortingly as she cried silently while Piper rubbed her hand in small circles, whispering soft words that she couldn't decipher. Her emotions were haywire and her thoughts scattered. How could she have done that? Any of that…? She was appalled that she could have changed so much. She had slapped her daughter! Placed her in a mental institution that had caused her so much pain… How could she have just walked away and let that happen to her own child?

"**Those several incidents were few of many that I experienced. You betrayed me, and abandoned me within that hellish prison, bound and powerless against their experimental treatments to get me better. You thought you were helping, when in reality… you condemned me. And yet I do not hate you. I should. I have every right to, considering that it was your actions that caused all of this. I don't hate you… but I don't want to be anywhere near you either.**"

Chris attempted to reign his temper in as he ignored his blubbering aunt after that bombshell. He dug his nails into the palms of his hands uncaringly, most likely drawing blood in small crescent moons and unconsciously knowing that somewhere in the south pacific a volcano was manifesting itself to his anger. He had always known what she had experienced within the facility. She had confided in him by allowing him into her mind only once. He was sure that this was not what she meant earlier, about angering him despite his inner rage.

Forcing his palms flat, Chris drew in a deep breath and internally counted backwards from twenty. He glanced around, sighing with resignation as he realized that the others were too deep in thought to do anything. He knew what he wanted to ask. It was selfish, so incredibly selfish. He should ask if they could so this, change the world so drastically. Something for the good of the rest of the innocent lives, stumbling through the motions day by day—and yet he wouldn't. He needed to know this. Had to know…

"Mia," he said quietly, drawing her attention. "… Please?"

Phoenicia did not need to hear it spoken out loud to know what he wanted. She smiled into his imploring face serenely, nodding her head. "**As you wish,**"

…

_Leo stood with his arms crossed over his muscular chest, his golden hair slicked back to hide the few tufts of white, his jaw locked to keep from spewing verbal abuse and demanding answers. He stared at his long time mentor with unreadable sea green eyes. This had to be some sort of sick joke. It didn't seem possible. Gideon thought that his son was dangerous, and not only to himself but to the world as a whole? How could anyone believe that his sweet, innocent child would bring Armageddon to earth?_

"_Explain it to me," Leo said calmly._

_The older man frowned at him, clearly displeased. "You are an Elder now, Leo," he said harshly, his disappointment clear the murky depths of his eyes. "It is time you start behaving like one. Your calling transcends sins of the flesh, family, even fatherhood! But you… you are too attached to them. You refuse to see the bigger picture."_

"_So explain it to me," he repeated. "What is the bigger picture?"_

"_We made a mistake, Leo," Gideon told him evenly. "We made a mistake in allowing that child to be born, in allowing such a concentration of power to be brought into this world in one being. Someone with that much power should not be allowed to exist!" His eyes flashed wildly as he emphasized his point with frantic motions. "I have shown you the scriptures! You must know what he is! They brought terror down on us for decades and all the prophecies I've uncovered declare that he will destroy everything…"_

"_If you're so sure of this," Leo bit out, his eyebrows knitted together. "Then why haven't you reported your findings to the Council?"_

_Gideon scoffed. "One does not simply request a meeting with the Council!" he said crossly, giving his former protégé a look that suggested he was offended by mere idea of it. "And, technically speaking, I am not permitted to visit the Hall of Prophecies… if the Council became aware that I have seen the ancient prophecies, the retribution would be severe."_

_Leo narrowed his jade eyes. "Then how are you gaining entrance?"_

"_We are getting off topic! This mistake needs to be rectified!"_

"_Rectified?"_

"_Yes, Leo," Gideon nodded solemnly. "I have already taken the steps to ensure it. It's for the greater good."_

_The words were said so casually, so uncaringly that Leo could scarcely see any resemblance to the man who had guided him through his early years as a whitelighter. The features may have been the same, though there was nothing recognizable about Gideon at the moment. Leo shook his head. "You're talking about murder, Gideon," he said quietly, voice tinged with a dark undertone that promised nothing short of agony. "Murdering my son."_

_Gideon only spared him a pitying look. "I was afraid of this," he said sadly. "This is why attachments are forbidden Leo. Your affection for the boy is clouding your judgment."_

_Leo stared at him in angry sympathy. "You're insane."_

"_No," Gideon hissed indignantly. "I'm right. And I cannot let you stop me." Before Leo could react he had managed to inhale a large amount of golden dust, sea green eyes glazing over wile Gideon tucked the small pouch of memory dust into a pocket in his robes. "You'll see in time, my boy It has to be done." He cleared his throat and smiled thinly at the dazed man. "I'm sorry, Leo. I don't know much about Ulrich demons. Perhaps you could check with Sigmund in the library?"_

_The younger man blinked in confusion. "Ulrich demons?"_

"_Yes. Sorry you had to waste your time checking with me first." He gave Leo a pat on the shoulder. "Go check with Sigmund, I'm sure he has a book or two on the subject. Tell the girls I wish them luck in their demon hunting. And give the little ones a hug from their uncle Gideon, would you?"_

_Leo nodded absently. "Right. I'll do that," he agreed sluggishly, turning around and walking away._

…

_With dark intent in his eyes, Gideon stared down at the child in the playpen. He wished he could prove it to his brothers and sisters but most of all to the Council that this boy should be destroyed, though it was futile. He had chanced upon the scriptures that spoke of what the abomination known as Wyatt Halliwell would do when he became of age. It never spoke of him directly, though all the identifying markers were there. He could never let that happen._

_Gideon knew, staring into the abnormally wise and powerful eyes of the boy, that he would kill the child himself if he had to, as long as it prevented the prophecies. This boy was an abomination, and it was his duty to remove such a creature before it could inevitably grow to cause harm. Therefore, Gideon steeled himself as he subtly reached inside of his robes, approaching cautiously. _

_Before he could take another step, a blue light resonated from the boy, encasing the child in a dome of magical energy that would undoubtedly protect him. Gideon smiled thinly. "It won't protect you for long, child," he said calmly, inwardly preparing himself to break the shield. It would take effort, quite a bit of effort, but he knew he would get through eventually. The dagger was made specifically to kill such… abominations. _

_A soft noise drew his attention to the door, signaling that someone was approaching, and he cursed silently before he vanished. "Not for long," he said as his parting words._

…

_It pained him greatly to see his home like this, his school—the one place he had pledged to protect with all of his power… devastated beyond repair. Tables and shelved that had once contained precious artifacts were all overturned and broken, the artifacts shattered or missing. Sacred scrolls and one of a kind books were shredded and in pieces everywhere, appearing as fallen confetti. Once pristine walls were a morbid display of scorch markings from where various forms of destructive magic had collided and incinerated, and the worst sight throughout the school were the piles of ashes… from his student and teachers._

_For a brief moment, Gideon wished he could take it all back. To stop himself from opening the doors and lowering the wards, allowing any and all to feel the magic radiate from these sacred halls of learning, to stop himself from allowing them access to cause this destruction. But he couldn't do that, it was far too late. And he knew he shouldn't either. It had to be done, the sacrifices of his students and staff were minimal compared to the havoc the child would bring in coming years._

_It was all for the greater good, he reminded himself._

_Resolute in his decision, Gideon walked throughout the ruins that were once the Firebird Academy, not allowing his eyes to stray to the few remaining bodies of the massacre, lest he begin to doubt himself again. He entered his chambers, the only set of rooms that had remained intact. He immediately spotted his cohorts standing in front of a shimmering blue shield, attempting to break it. He spared them a frown for beginning without him though he remained silent as he joined them._

"_Any survivors?" a drawling voice questioned, a hint of humorous satisfaction lingering in the tone._

_The Elder swallowed thickly as his heart pounded in his chest. "… No."_

"_Good," another said casually. "The less witnesses the better."_

_Gideon looked down for a brief moment, feeling shamed for agreeing with them. Yes, there should not be any witnesses… it was why he had chosen to wait for a holiday before proceeding with his plans. At least half of the students had gone home, so the losses were not as great as they could have been. It could have all been avoided had it not been for the fact that some of his staff had discovered he was harboring the child within his rooms, when in fact the boy had been 'missing' for almost a week. It couldn't have been helped, and it was all for the best._

_When he managed to compose himself, Gideon realized that they were missing someone. "Where is Sigmund?"_

_The other three shared a look of amusement._

"_The less witnesses the better."_

_Gideon's eyes widened a fraction before he managed to collect himself. He swallowed again, feeling sadness and regret at the news that they had murdered his friend. He was angry as well, angry enough that his fingers twitched with an electrical current, though he reminded himself that now was not the time to allow his emotions to rule his judgment. He would deal with them once their task was complete. His friend would be remembered for his sacrifice, as would all of the others. _

"_Damn it!" the warlock cursed, yanking his stinging hand away from the child's shield. "We aren't going to break through his shield like this. The kid is powerful," he muttered as he inspected his wounds. "What now?"_

"_You have all tried?" Gideon asked in disbelief. _

_One of the demons nodded. "All three of us,"_

"_It will take a hell of a lot of power to overcome the shield," the last said angrily._

"_Yes," another voice said, startling all of them as they spun around to face the newcomer. "But his greatest fear is not being able to protect his family, specifically the youngest. He would do anything to protect him." The man was tall and thin, dressed in all black, his hair graying and coming down to his neck is soft waves. He had yellowing teeth and a presence that made the conspirators shiver unconsciously in fear, which he reveled in._

"_No!" Gideon said in horror, taking an involuntary step forward as if it could stop the madman from doing anything else. "Absolutely not, Barbas." he said firmly. "While I agree that this boy is a threat, the other one hardly has any magic in him at all. He is not to be touched, not even if it means that Wyatt will lower his shield."_

"_Ah, spoil my fun," the demon chuckled._

"_Besides… I may have a way to break the shield," the Elder added. He reached inside of his robes and withdrew the enchanted dagger from within, brandishing it for them to see. "This… this was infused with a tremendous amount of power, a very long time ago. It is what they used to kill the last candidate... and his magic will not be able to resist against it. He will die."_

"_Excellent," one chuckled, while the warlock smirked and approached Gideon._

"_What are we waiting for?" he asked, removing the blade from the Elder's hands and moving to stand in front of the infant. Before Gideon had a chance to protest, the warlock had already lifted the knife over his head and was swinging down hard. The blade met the shield and his arms shook with effort to keep them steady as he continued to try and drive it down. They all waited with bated breath to see what would happen._

_Finally, the shield shimmered, faltering, and the dagger glowed._

_Gideon sighed in relief, his guilt vanishing along with the protective magic that surrounded the boy. It made him feel lighter to know that he had been correct in his findings, that this child was exactly what he had believed him to be. He locked eyes with the frightened child, and shook his head sadly. "I am truly sorry, my boy, but this is for the greater good." Gideon gave the warlock a nod and turned away, not wanting to witness the slaying of a child, however necessary it may be._

_A soft jingling noise emitted from behind him, like wind chimes in a gentle breeze, though that was eclipsed by the cry of absolute agony and Gideon whipped back around just in time to see his cohort burst into flames from the enchanted dagger buried within his chest. The warlock not only burned from the inside out, his soul remaining in place even as the body crumbled in ashes. The dagger ravaged the soul as it had the body, scorching and charring, until it fell among the pile of ash, it's task complete. _

_There would be no afterlife for the warlock, no reincarnation. He was gone forever._

_Barbas even gave the dagger a wary look as he gingerly picked it up by the handle, studying the ancient words engraved into the hilt. He could not prevent the way his eyes widened when he realized what, exactly, this dagger had been meant for. The demon chuckled humorlessly, lifting his eyes with a concealed look of anger. "Gideon, I do believe you neglected to tell us something,"_

_The Elder squared his shoulders, though only to mask his shaking. "I told you only what you needed to know."_

"… _Of course you did," Barbas sneered. "In light of this…" He twisted the hilt carefully between his fingers. "New development… I do believe it is time we tried things my way."_

"… _Your way?"_

_Barbas smiled thinly and looked at one of the other demons. "Mason. Be a good boy and go fetch Leita." Gideon watched as the demon actually whimpered in fear, shaking his head rapidly in response to the order. Barbas gave him a steady look, lifting the dagger in an obvious threat. "Now,"_

_With a cry of distress, the demon shimmered away with a departing sob._

_Gideon watched with growing apprehension. "Who is Leita?"_

_The smile Barbas sent him was predatory. "An old friend."_

…

"**You have your answer**," she told him gently, watching as Chris struggled to breathe properly. "**Gideon discovered a prophecy during his youth as a whitelighter. The prophecy spoke of the birth of a child, a boy that would tip the balance and change the world irrevocably. … this child would be born of a Charmed One and an Elder. The prophecy consumed him, and his fear of what would happen caused him to break his vow, and quest to eradicate this child**."

"Gideon?" Leon said hoarsely. "Gideon was the one who attacked the academy…"

"**When he realized that he could not destroy Wyatt on his own,**" she continued as if he had not spoken. "**Gideon sought the aid of soulless beings, demons and warlocks and darklighters, all there only on a need to know basis. He told them that he simply wanted the child gone, because that much power should have never been allowed to exist in one being. Gideon failed to realize that, once his true intentions were known, that his new conspirators would have their own agenda. It did not take Barbas long to contact a member of the Tribunal in an attempt to use the forbidden arts to remove Wyatt's soul.**"

"Only… it didn't work," Chris realized, his eyes widening. "It only fractured his soul. Split it in half."

Phoenicia smiled at his deduction and nodded. "**The magic could not remove his soul, and instead his spirit and his mind fractured. Thus, his personality disorder was born.**"

"And then the great idiot cast that spell to make himself whole."

"**Spells have never been his forte**."

"So his personalities took on their own bodies to balance his mind out."

"**The only chance to prevent it from happening**_**,**_" Phoenicia told him. "**To save him, is to remove them from the equation before they have the chance to fracture his soul, and to destroy the Tribunal and the forbidden scrolls so they can never attempt such an act again. To save Wyatt… you must obliterate the Tribunal, Barbas, and Gideon. Only then will he be safe.**"

Chris nodded jerkily in response, already forming ways to kill Gideon and the others a thousand times over for what they had done, what they were planning. To thing, Chris had actually trusted the bastard at one point in his life. He had never thought him to be a particularly good headmaster—Chris had always thought he was much too strict and unyielding. But he had offered some decent advice when Chris had been appointed the temporary leader of the Resistance. It made his blood boil when he thought of all the times that Gideon had asked after his brother, wanting to know how he was, the inquires and the strange look he got when Chris answers. It all made sense now.

"**You may ask your next question**." Phoenicia said staring between the two Elders, though something in her tone made Chris pause and eye her in concern. Her skin had already been pale from the blood loss of making the wards, though now it was nearly translucent. The glow in her eyes never faltered once, and in fact it seemed to burn even brighter with each passing moment.

Chris peeked at the watch around his wrist and drew in a sharp breath, his head snapping up so quickly that everyone heard an audible crack. "Ask the damn question," he ordered sharply. "Now!" It may have seemed as if little to no time had passed but according to the timepiece they had been doing this for at least two hours. Phoenicia had been immersed in the beyond for two hours. Any longer and her heart could stop. Chris' own heart pounded fiercely inside of his chest, and he swallowed thickly at the thought of what his cousin could experience if left to this any longer.

Leon sensed the urgency and was quick to react. "We have our question."

"**You have but to ask**."

"The prophecy you spoke of," he began, giving his younger counterpart a hesitant glance. The other man nodded determinedly and Leon looked down at the piece of scrap paper he had been abusing the last few days. The edges had been torn and worn but his handwriting still stood out clearly. Leon cleared his throat. "The prophecy you made the day Chris gave you the potion… what does it mean?"

"**As you wish**,"

The world around them faded once again.

…

"**The Veil of Time unravels, giving way to the Dragon.**"

"… _and if I end up in the past inside out, I'm going to haunt your sorry ass for eternity. And when you finally die, I'm going to send your ass to purgatory. Got it?"_

_Wyatt stared at him unaffected. "… Ready?"_

"… _Go for it."_

_Wyatt placed a firm hand on Isaac's shoulder and began reciting the spell._

"_Hear these words, hear this rhyme,_

_Heed the hope within my mind…"_

"**The Gateways will falter, giving way to the Lycan.**"

_Foreboding statues stood idle on either side of the watery surface of the portal, their presence causing a majority of the small army to shift uncertainly. The spells on the statues would prevent them from going through, to safety and freedom. And yet they had been led hear by the child, their sovereign… the child Lucifer. He was only three years old, an exceptionally bright child, his intelligence more than a little frightening. _

_Some would question why they, a group of demons and warlocks in their early hundreds, would follow an infant. To say that questioning that was bordering on stupidity was very adept. A child Lucifer may have been, though he had lead them directly to the gates that lead to the surface world without fail. The sire of their liege, the woman known only as the Seer, had protested and fought to keep him there, to prevent the child from leading them. She had been dealt with accordingly. She was not the child's mother, and they felt no remorse for destroying her._

_The infant was held tightly as the demon guard, Balthier, approached the gateway with caution. He watched in awe as the child rose a small hand, his fingers outstretched, and shattered the stone guardians that prevented those of demonic ancestry from passing through the gates. Behind them, the rest of their group cheered and sent the child praises, though the boy only frowned, urging Balthier to go closer to the portal._

_Lucifer's outstretched hand brushed against the glassy surface, his fingers passing through the ripples with ease and he suddenly tensed. Something had been calling to the child, a small tug at his heart. It was a new presence, something he had never felt before, and it had gotten stronger the closer he got to the portal. He inhaled slowly and pushed his hand through even more, wondering what this… this feeling was. The Seer had not even evoked feelings such as this in him, and she was the one who sired him._

_This was warm and comforting and he shivered in delight at the thought of finding whatever or whoever was causing such warmth. Could this person be his true family? The Seer had always claimed that she was his only family, though in secret Balthier had denied it, saying that she was lying… Balthier said that his family still lived above, on the surface, a family of whitelighters and witches, beings that his sire had taught him to despise. Yet if this is what his family felt like…_

_The group proceeded eagerly through the gates, Balthier with little Lucifer in his arms leading the way._

"**If the Dragon does not answer the summoner's Call,**"

_Wyatt cringed as something akin to static echoed in his ears. It was almost as if someone was attempting to call for him, or summon him to their side with magic. Only something was preventing it from happening. He could feel the magic swirl around him, a pull attempting to drag him elsewhere, though here, inside the warded house, he was protected from such magic. He had felt anxious, watching them all leave, each geared as if they were marching off to battle for some war._

_The static became louder and he frowned unhappily, straining his hears to listen. He couldn't stand this, just waiting here unable to help. He had to fix this, had to go to them. Something was wrong, terribly wrong—he could feel it in his gut. There had to be a way to reverse his disastrous spell, to get him out of this predicament otherwise he had a feeling that he would lose the two people he came to protect._

"_..at!" _

_Eagerly, he tilted his head and listened even harder._

"_Wyatt! Pl…se…lp!"_

"**The Phoenix will be struck down…**"

_It was cold, close to freezing, warm breath coming out in visible puffs of vapor against the chill. Dark hair was coated with icy frost, his nose and cheeks red as the frozen wind viciously attacked his face. Chris fought to keep his body warm, his eyes burning with a fiery warmth as he gazed out over the bridge that was made entirely of ice. He would have to cross it carefully, taking care with each step. He had no intention of melting through the thin crossing and falling to the frozen depths of the lake below._

_Shivering almost violently, Chris made his way across, his eyes closed against the violent snowflakes carried by the wind, his hand held out in front of him. His fingers brushed against wall of ice, a barricade that signaled he had made it to the other side. He removed his glove with great reluctance, winching as he pressed them to the frosted surface. Heat poured through his hand, and the wall began dripping in earnest, almost raining down as it continued to melt. _

_There was a platform beyond the melted wall, equally as frozen through thankfully it was not made of ice but of metal and stone that had just accumulated an abundance of ice in this atmosphere. Chris went to work thawing the metal so that the lift would work properly, using the same method of pressing his hand to the wall and channeling heat through it. The platform lurched as a large chunk of the ice holding it in place suddenly gave away under the treatment. He placed the bare palms of his hands to the floor and poured heat into the meticulously carved stone._

_The platform shuddered and gave another violent lurch, which was his only warning before the entire lift finally broke away suddenly began to plummet down the narrow shaft. The superheated stone of the platform easily melted through all of the frozen obstructions down the shaft, and the speed of the fall only increased without obstacles to slow it down. Chris swallowed and stood unsteadily, drawing his hands together and conjuring a matrix of fire as he braced himself as he counted down in his head._

_On zero he absorbed the fire and manipulated it into a shield just around his skin as he jumped into the air while the platform collided violently with the ground, making the snow and rock and ice begin to tumble down the shaft. Razor sharp blades of ice rained down on him but they melted and evaporated before could even touch his skin because of the fiery shield protecting him. _

_Chris impacted with the ground less violently than he expected, though still out of breath and aching. He was quick to roll himself further away as a small avalanche sealed the entrance to the lift. He had already known he would have to find another way out of here once his task was complete, so he did not despair the fact that the exit was now buried beneath a mountain of snow. He stood, dusting himself off as he turned around._

_Disbelief clouded the young man's features as pain filled his chest, his eyes wide and full of agony as he registered the long, sharp icicle protruding from his chest, mere centimeters away from his heart. He lifted his eyes to the perpetrator, a tall blond woman with a malicious smile as he sunk to his knees, a small drizzle of blood spilling from his lips, which froze instantly in the frigid air._

"_I have been waiting for you, Christopher,"_

"… **and the Sabyl will fall.**"

_Water reflected off of every surface of the ancient chamber, cascades of it pouring down each wall into the reservoirs that surrounded the rectangular the dais in the center. A colossal statue made of stone was raised high on the dais, depicting four maidens all grouped together, their arms wrapped around each other and their expressions solemn, as if they were weeping. High above the only entrance to the chamber was a small opening, from which the young woman had fallen from._

_Phoenicia took in shallow breaths as she gazed up at the opening with a dazed expression, her body aching from the high fall. She coughed painfully, attempting to sit up, only to give up when her ribs and her shoulder screamed out in agony from the slight motions. She laid there, silent tears streaming out of the corners of her eyes, waiting for the strength to move. She was pretty sure that she had broken a rib or two and dislocated her shoulder._

_Fate was not kind, however, and she squinted as the light began to dim as the opening began closing above her. The heavy stone slid into place with a foreboding noise, the rock slamming against rock, sending the room into a dark oblivion. It took some time for her eyes to adjust, though in the darkness she could hear the water slashing and sloshing all around her. And suddenly, the sound became even more prominent, closer even, and it took her a moment to deduce that it was coming from the statues._

_Phoenicia peered at the statues, only able to see a dim outline of them, though the water glistened slightly as it spilt down the cheeks of the maidens and onto the floor of the dais. She winced, reluctantly forcing herself to move, slowly clamoring onto her knees. She gasped when cool water touched her hand unexpectedly, the tears pouring from the eyes of the statues flooding the small platform. It was then she realized that, all around the dais, the water level was steadily rising, the water cascading from the walls having no outlet and no other choice but to rise._

_The cold water kept rising and rising until she was floating in it, barely able to keep her feet on the ground and her head above water at the same time. Soon it had risen so high that she was near the opening, her hands scrambling to move the rock back, her powers even useless against the enchanted stone that had trapped her in this deadly tomb. Her eyes had adjusted enough that she could read the runes inscribed upon the walls, proclaiming this chamber to be the Tomb of Tears. _

_Panic clouded her mind as the gap between the ceiling and the water continued to shrink until it was almost nonexistent. Fear and adrenalin driving her, she grasped onto whatever she could and pulled her remaining power, creating a small protective bubble around her just as the water touched the ceiling. She took in small, shallow breaths to conserve her only remaining oxygen as she kicked her legs, searching along the stonewalls for a way to open the hatch._

_Each moment was precious, the bubble of air becoming smaller and smaller with each breath she took. She had used the last of her magic at this point, exhausted mentally, physically and magically. She would not survive long without some fresh air soon. The bubble had shrunk to the point that it only surrounded her head, and she had very little time left now._

"_Wyatt," she called as softly as she dared. Water began leaking inside of her only source of oxygen, too fatigued to keep it sustained much longer. "Wyatt…" It sloshed against her face as the air became thinner and thinner. "Please help!" she screamed, praying that he heard her._

_Phoenicia took her last breath and the bubble was gone._

…

"**You have your answer.**"

As the magic released its hold on them, Chris trembled with the effort to keep standing. His mind was having difficulty processing what he had seen because it just didn't seem possible. Had he really witnessed his own death? He had never given much thought to how he could die. Possibly being burnt alive when he was in the future, being stabbed because of his own stupidity more recently. It was disconcerting, certainly, and he found himself wrapping his arms around his midsection as if to ward off a chill as he replayed the events through his mind. The one thing, however, that had caught his attention, was not what would happen to him, but his cousin's plight. Phoenicia had drowned and he hadn't been there to protect her. Of course considering what they saw, he could have already been dead by that point and unable to do anything.

"**If Wyatt does not respond to our Calls,**" Phoenicia said in closing, stating simply that, "**We will die.**" Leon stumbled back, nodding his head sharply, both his and Leo's features grim. "**You may ask your question**."

"… I," Paige stumbled. "Don't have one."

Before anyone even had a chance to balk at her refusing such a gift, the knowledge of whatever she wanted, Phoenicia was crumbling to the ground. Chris was the first to reach her, pulling her into his arms as she began convulsing. "She's having a seizure!" he said quickly, trying to hold her still. Leon was swift to remove his belt, offering it to Chris so he could place it between her teeth so she wouldn't bite her tongue as she jerked violently.

Phoebe watched worriedly. "Is she okay?"

Chris swallowed. "… I don't know."

Leon placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder before he knelt down beside his niece; a single glance at Leo urged him to do the same. They placed their hands over Phoenicia carefully, bathing her in a soft golden light as they attempted to heal her. Slowly the convulsions came to a halt, and she relaxed against Chris' chest. Her breathing evened out, and Chris removed the belt, watching her face carefully as she slowly opened her eyes.

"Mia?"

Phoenicia sat up, looking around the room in confusion. "Yes, Christopher?"

"Thank God," he breathed out in relief.

"Chris?" she began hesitantly. "… What are we all doing in the conservatory?"

Worry clouded his features once more. "You don't remember?" She shook her head. "You offered to answer some questions… you found us all worthy…" He watched as her eyes lit up in recognition.

"So I already did it?" she asked, looking around the room. The expressions from everyone varied from shock and disbelief, to outrage and horror. "Must not have liked their answers," Phoenicia commented dryly. She accepted Leo's hand, and he pulled her to her feet while Chris stood up urgently after her.

"How come you can't remember?" he asked urgently. "You have to remember, you have to tell me how to stop it from happening, damn it!"

Phoenicia smiled sadly. "I warned you that you would be upset…"

"The prophecy about you," Leon interrupted. "How can we change that? You both died in it."

"… You're asking the wrong person," she said softly. "I don't know how to change it."

Chris shook his head in disbelief. "You know everything! You can't _not_ know how to change it!"

"It's not that simple Chris,"

"Why not?" Chris demanded, and the lamp beside him suddenly shattered in his rage.

"Look," Paige butted in urgently. "We're all a little upset at the moment. Why don't we just calm down. Piper, why don't you go make us all some nice, warm chamomile tea?"

Chris ignored the suggestion. "Why not, Phoenicia?"

Phoenicia sighed, and leveled him with a sad stare. "Do you know what it takes for an Oracle to exist in a time that is not their own? They have to give up something, Chris… something precious and vital. To come here, I had to give up my ability to predict my own future." She continued on even as he began to stare at her with a dawning horror as he realized what that meant. "The most I get are small flashes in my sleep, that make no sense until it is already happening. I am blind here Chris. I can see what happens to those around me, though even that is beginning to blur slightly with each passing day. In only a few short weeks, Chris… I will not be an Oracle."

"… No," he denied. "No. How will you protect yourself if you can't…"

"I knew this would happen, Chris. I knew it when I came here," she told him gently. "And when the time comes, when the me of this time comes of age, she will not be an Oracle either. She will not have this curse. My actions here have ensured it. The most I will have will be premonitions…"

"No! We'll change it," he instead, the others staying silent and observing their discussion. "We can send you back, and you can stay with your dad while I finish up here. I can do it on my own,"

"I told you, there are some things we can't change," Phoenicia reminded him. "This has already been put into motion, and nothing we do will change it."

Chris swallowed the thickness lodged in his throat, forcing himself not to get angry because he had promised her that he wouldn't just this morning. That seemed such a long way away now. He wanted to throw something, to destroy something. She had no right to bargain with her life like this, he didn't care if the key factor was that it was _her_ _life_. Before he thought that if she knew her life was in danger she could avoid it…It was different now, because he knew she was just as lost as he was in this mess.

"I know you are angry Chris. I knew you would be. And I understand…"

"Why would you do this?" he cut her off. He looked at her, trying to place himself in her situation, and he couldn't think of any reason why she would come here except for the fact that she had been out of her mind at the time. And even that couldn't count, because if she had been coherent enough to travel to the past then she could certainly make her own decisions. "Give me one good reason why you would place yourself in so much danger. Why you would risk yourself to come here?"

"... Because you would have succeeded," Phoenicia said evenly. "You would have saved Wyatt in time, and Gideon would have been dealt with. But there would have been a great cost. One that would carry on through the future, and then you would have paid the ultimate price. That dagger… the one that Gideon has… it does not only kill. It places a curse on the soul. If it touches your soul… your soul will never find peace. Every reincarnation would be tainted by this curse, and they will all die a horrific death at the very same moment that the original victim had been cursed… there is no way to save the soul once it has been tainted…"

Chris understood what she was trying to say. "Gideon used it on me." he realized numbly. "He killed me with it, and it affected me no matter what timeline we were in. Mini-me would have died too, even if I did manage to change things… and you being here. That changes it?"

"Yes," she assured him. "It already has."

"See this?" Chris asked lightly, a tight smile on his face. "This is my: _I'm-not-happy-with-you_ face."

Phoenicia smiled dryly. "We're acquainted."

Chris snorted. "I… I…" He ran a hand through his hair. "I'll be back."

And then he was gone, disappearing in a swirl of white and blue lights. Phoenicia had no real idea where he was going, and she decided to allow him time to himself so he could work through everything. And when he got back she would have some question of her own. For instance, why, after basically shoving it in their faces, did no one realize who Chris was? She was sure at least one of them, particularly with Wyatt's inner monologue, that they would have picked up on it. She had selected those memories for a reason.

The only conclusion she had was that something was preventing them from discovering it. Something that kept them from realizing his identity unless it was outright stated to their face. He had to have cast a spell, mistakenly thinking that it would help him. Or perhaps, something else was going on and he had no idea about it. Either way, she would have to fix it, because he was only hurting himself by not telling them who he was.

Phoenicia watched as a calm Paige consoled her two older sisters, silently offering them steaming mugs of tea most likely. She had been pleasantly surprised with her aunt, though as Paige had always been her favorite aunt she shouldn't have been so shocked. Perhaps there was some hope for them all yet. Phoenicia watched the trio as Leo and Leon came to stand beside her.

"You certainly know how to cause a stir," Leo said with a nervous laugh.

Phoenicia smiled sweetly. "I get that from my father,"

"… Cole." Leon added, causing his younger self to choke.

"That's… nice?"

Leon nodded seriously. "He is good for this family, believe it or not…"

"You saw it just as I did!" Phoebe said loudly, drawing their attention.

"We'll change it!" Piper retorted angrily. "And we don't need to go anywhere to do it!"

"Enough!" Paige yelled at them both, startling them into silence. "You two are acting like children. I may be the youngest, but you two are both being more immature. Today is Friday, we can certainly take two days off of our lives and go with them and be back bright and early for work come Monday. If anything it will be a learning experience. Are you really going to waste a chance like this, if it means it can better the future for your children?" Piper and Phoebe shook their heads mutely, looking suitably chastised. "Good."

Phoenicia watched in amusement as Paige marched over to her. "Yes, Aunt Paige?"

"After a very calm and mature discussion," the redhead said shortly. "We have decided to accompany you when you leave to… wherever it was you said you were going. What time do we leave? And what should we pack?"

"Just after dawn," Phoenicia told her. "And anything you can hike in will be excellent,"

Paige nodded. "We need to go shopping then," she said sheepishly.

**End  
Chapter**

And there you have it. Oh, and on the note of Chris being cursed with that dagger, I'm pretty sure that I am not the only one who thought there was something wonky with the dagger that Gideon used to kill Chris with. So my thinking is that, even though Chris had succeeded (in the show) that he would be affected by it later in life-Phoenicia saw that, and decided to intervene. Next chapter is going to be so much fun to write, though I'm afraid it might not be out next weekend as I had planned. I have company coming to stay with me for the week, and therefore my free time will be limited. I will try to have it up as soon as possible, though!

Lynx


	15. The Wonderland

**Finding Yourself  
**_The Wonderland_

**Saturday, November 29th, 2003  
**Warm rays of sunlight flitted through the curtains, the warmth of the dawning light dancing wistfully across her pensive features as she watched the world beyond her own window. Paige had been in a solemn and thoughtful mood throughout the entire night. She was always the one who was overlooked when everyone was discussing plans, it seemed. Her sisters, though she knew that the loved her, still had a tendency to believe that she was too young or naïve or simply wouldn't understand everything they had apparently gone through in their long lives.

Paige had always been of the belief that life was too short for everyone, and that she was just now somewhere in the middle of it all. She was old enough to know the difference but young enough not to give a damn. She figured age was irrelevant when compared to experiences, and although she knew that she was three years behind of the whole _saving the world_ calling, she felt that her own experiences still had to count for something.

Admittedly her sisters had been correct about her in the beginning, though not for the reason they had assumed. She was not an immature person, and the only reason she had acted so recklessly was because of the circumstances they had found themselves in. She had only _just_ discovered that she had a family that was still living and apparently wanted her in their lives, no matter how selfishly the reasons. She was no longer as alone as she had felt since the day her parents had passed away, and the thought of these strangers forcing their way into her life, trying to guide and teach her when they were only a few short years older, had not been entirely welcome.

The way they had constantly compared her to the deceased Prudence Halliwell initially had also had the debilitating effect of making her feel inadequate, and so she had lashed out accordingly.

It had not taken her long to adapt and adjust, as she was well versed in doing, and soon her small acts of rebellion and testing to see how far she could push them before they retaliated had subsided. She had finally begun to feel as if she belonged among them, though she was still considered to be the baby. The one that was rarely taken seriously, who was scolded for simple mistakes, who had an opinion that held no merit because there was no way she could possibly _know_ what she was doing.

Of course, the knowledge that she would quite possibly never be taken seriously had only rekindled her defiant streak, although she had opted for a passive aggressive approach when dealing with her newfound sisters rather that blatant advances. She used the subtly of suggestions to her advantage, and twisted the situation around carefully to make her sisters believe that _her _ideas had actually been _theirs_.

However the art of subtly and reverse psychology could only get her so far, she was unfortunate to learn. Both of her sisters still butted in when she did not want nor need them to, they still corrected and scolded her constantly, and they still believed that they were the only ones capable of coming up with the brilliant plans even with her proving them wrong at every turn.

Paige had conceded that this may just be one down fault of having older siblings.

Very rarely would she find herself agreeing with them, or even their methods. She had always been a strong believer in equal rights for everyone, and once she became aware of the magical society, this belief had extended towards those of inhuman nature. She may have allowed them to pursued her on certain things, eventually cave into letting them change her mind, though when there was something she believed in she would stand up for it. She could be resolute and unshakable when she felt, in her heart, that she was standing up for what she knew was right.

Even when facing the darkest of darkness in the world, she still believed that nothing could ever be innately evil as her sisters seemed to—the manticore infant a prime example. And even this situation, the predicament that she found herself in at the very moment, was such an occasion. She knew her sisters would not agree with her, and so she had constantly gone behind their backs, though even if they had been aware they would not be able to change her mind about this.

Paige had long ago realized that, despite the use of such unconventional and more than usually _irritating_ methods… the young man known only to them as Chris Perry honestly did have their best interests at heart. She could admit that there was a lot of things he could have done differently, that would have made them more complainant, though in her own heart, she believed wholly and truly that he was a good person. He was just a lost young boy in her eyes, a boy who was desperate for approval and love, seeking for any sign that he might be needed.

And she would know, having been in several similar positions despite the enormous difference in circumstance.

Time traveling, she had come to gather, was a lot like being placed in foster care. Of course she did not theorize this in the magical sense, and probably not even in the literal sense. No… it was the emotions and feelings behind it that caused her to come to this conclusion. After her parents had passed away tragically in a car accident, she had been left behind as the sole survivor.

No one had been there to take her in afterward, and she had been deemed too young to live on her own. Paige had been seventeen, angry at humanity for barely acknowledging the loss of the two greatest people she had ever known, at herself for living while they had not, and she was suddenly just pawned off to strangers—some of them had been nice… other had been indifferent… and only once had one been cruel. She was never in one place for long, eventually they tired of her or decided they were not willing to deal with a sullen and depressed teenager.

Paige could still remember the feeling of absolute helplessness involved, how unwanted she had felt with each new home. The constant feeling of being out of place and completely alone even when surrounded by people would always be present in her mind... of feeling and being unloved by everyone around her.

To say that her experiences with the system had been a deciding factor in her pursuit of becoming a social worker would have been an understatement. Paige had wanted to protect other children and young adults from her own past experiences, to offer safe _homes_ rather than a place to live in. She felt that children in those positions had to grow up too fast, just as she did, and it was probably what had nurtured her independence and stubbornness.

Paige did not need to have the magical power of empathy to completely empathize with how the neurotic whitelighter from the future felt. She imagined that he was feeling lost, and scared and so alone because the only people he could talk to wanted very little if nothing to do with him.

There could be no wonder as to why Chris Perry had shielded himself from hurtful comments and unwarranted suspicion in the beginning with a façade of sarcasm and lies. He was only protecting himself… protecting himself from being hurt by _them_. The great mystery of why he had come back seemed a very pathetic excuse to treat another human being so callously, and even if he had indeed been working some ulterior motive that could have brought about the end of their bloodline, Paige had never been so ashamed of herself until she had come upon a broken and utterly defeated boy who had been kicked from their home, his small, cramped office, and their lives.

Guilt had been the primary reasoning in the change of attitude in Paige, and even when both of her sisters had attempted to wash their hands of him, and eradicate him from their lives, she had stood by him. Watching him flee from their home after Piper had told him that they didn't need him… she had known then that letting him leave had been a mistake, especially when she had found him high on the suspended bridge looking over the edge as if the water below had all of the answers.

Paige would never be certain what would have happened had she not shown up to tell him that she believed in him, that she would help him, and that if he needed her for anything to come to her. Granted, she had found him to be extremely irritating and way to demanding and bitchy for a boy for a majority of the time, though she had come to see that the way he acted and who he was were completely different people.

For almost an entire month, she had vigilantly responded to his calls for aid no matter the time. From dawn to dusk, afternoon to midnight, she would answer when he called for her. She had blessed athamés and brewed potions for him, had written countless spells and spent hours researching. And, though he remained unaware of her involvement, she had taken the time to prepare some food and had taken it to him under the clever guise of a glamor because she had become so concerned for his rapidly declining health.

Throughout the course of that month, she had gradually been attempting to soothe the air with Piper and Phoebe, trying to open them up to the idea of cutting the boy some slack. It had not taken much to get Leo on her side, and of course once he had seen the light of her reasoning, things had calmed down slightly. Somewhere along the course of that single month, Paige would like to believe that the boy had come to trust her.

Chris certainly seemed to be more comfortable around her than he did with anyone else, and unlike her sisters and brother in law, he had never really aimed any slurs or snide comments at her. She was pleased to note that he had become less guarded around her, his amused smirks no longer holding any sting or arrogance, instead softening into _almost _smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners when she made certain comments.

Paige had found a kindred soul in him.

… and then began the most confusing week of her life…

The sudden arrival of the wispy, and slightly _insane_ young woman who was apparently her niece had been quite disconcerting. Phoenicia was not at all what she would have imagined a niece to be, and granted, with her wonderful little nephew, she had the entirety of nine whole months to prepare mentally for the newest addition to their ever evolving family dynamic.

Having an instant niece had been all but mindboggling, especially since this was not a child that instantly inspired love and protectiveness in her heart, but a grown, cynical woman who was a complete stranger to her eyes. Paige had, admittedly, been a bit lost, unsure how to treat the girl or even how to react to the new development.

Eventually she had come to the decision to keep her distance and allow everything to go its course, to let the pieces fall where they may until she could see the full spectrum of this new jigsaw puzzle. She had watched the interaction of the rest of her family, see how they each approached the girl, before she would choose to take an active part, and she was pleased with the results.

Once Phoebe had gotten over her initial shock and denial, she had instantly shifted into what Paige had taken to calling _Mother-Mode_, although it was clear that she had no idea what to do either, attempting to treat the young woman as an actual child rather than trying to adapt to a full grown teenager. She had only caused annoyance to all around her, and had clearly pissed Phoenicia off royally.

The ever suspicious Piper had been kind, though calculating. It was obvious that, though she had accepted that this young woman was apparently a future relation, she was not very interested in creating a relationship with her. Paige understood that this was her sister's way of protecting herself from eventual heartbreak when the young woman would return home, no longer in their lives, and she could agree that if they got close to Phoenicia now that they would miss her, but Paige would rather live in the _now _than worry about what might happen.

Of course Leo had warmed up to Phoenicia the moment he laid eyes on her. He had lived a long life, and somehow always seemed to take strange happenings such as this in a stride. He treated the girl as if he had known her his entire life, looking upon her with fond eyes and smiles whenever he had managed to capture her attention.

Perhaps the most revealing interaction had been with the very subject of her inner turmoil. At first Paige had mistakenly believed that Chris was somehow involved with her niece. It gave her a plausible excuse for why he was so willing to place himself in so much danger for their family, why he would take the verbal abuse and ridicule with a roll of his eyes rather than let it cut too deeply. Paige had guessed that they were a bit like she had been with her friend Glenn, if not involved as lovers than exceptionally close.

… Possibly a bit of both.

It had not taken Paige more than twelve hours to deduce that her initial suspicions were unfounded. They were probably closer than she had been with Glenn, deeply connected on a level that had her reevaluating everything she knew about him. It was plain to see that he cared for her, loved her more than words could express… but he was not _in love_ with her.

Paige had already been edging towards a conclusion as to _why_ when the arrival of Leon occurred. Everything had suddenly begun to slide into place in her mind, a quiet _click_ resounding in her ears as the proverbial light turned on behind her eyes. The interaction between Chris and the older doppelganger had her riveted and wide-eyed from the moment she had laid eyes upon the two of them standing side by side.

Leon had placed himself in between the boy and them as if he were a shield and they were the potential weapons ready to cause him harm without the slightest bit of hesitation. He had been seriously protective and overbearing and proud and so full of _love_, and everything he should be when looking at... his son. Because that was how he had looked at Chris, staring him with the eyes of a father.

This had not been the first time such thoughts and speculations had entered her mind, though she had always dismissed them so easily. The very first time had been months ago, possibly on the very same day she had met the mysterious time traveler who claimed he was there to save the world. Chris and Leo had been standing side by side, and she had noticed that they had similar eyes.

For some reason unknown to her, she had shaken her head at the ridiculousness of her own thoughts. And now, Paige was becoming increasingly alarmed to recall that there had been several similar occurrences, where she had suspected and theorized and then summarily rejected the idea. Despite all of the overwhelming evidence she had apparently collected, something was keeping her from being convinced.

The idea was simply _ludicrous_, she kept thinking.

Only… it was not so ludicrous.

Paige had lied through her teeth yesterday afternoon, surrounded by her sisters and everyone else waiting for her to speak. She did have a question, one she deemed damn important, one that was apparently her _heart's desire _and for some reason she had been unable to voice it. Something… or perhaps even _someone_… was preventing her from asking it, from barely even _thinking _it.

Every time… the thoughts were still there in her mind, though every time she tried to focus on them, they flitted away like sand through her fingers, suddenly becoming distracted with something else. It was _there,_ _right there_ at the forefront of her mind, the words resting at the tip of her tongue with effort. There was no way to keep her tongue unglued from the roof of her mouth when she tried to ask, and when she tried to contemplate, she had no way of keeping her thoughts from drifting so uncontrollably.

Something was not right with this situation, of that Paige was absolutely certain, and she had a pretty good inclination to believe that someone was causing this to prevent her from adding one and one together to get the correct answer of two. She had wondered if she were the only one being affected, and quickly concluded that, no, they all were, because how else could that have been _so friggin_ _blind_ all these months?

Everything about this was just so frustrating, and she had done her best to hide just how irritated she was with _knowing_ but _not knowing_ at the same time. She had been hoping yesterday, when Phoenicia had given them such a gift, that the magic of an Oracle would somehow negate whatever was speaking the words she so desperately needed to know, to prove were real.

It had been disappointing when she suddenly forgot what she wanted to ask.

Abruptly Paige released a heavy, aggravated sigh and ran her fingers through her hair, gripping it at the roots in her ire. Her eyes reflected an inner fire and determination, and she silently vowed that she _would_ prove her theory even if it killed her. Because if she was right, her sisters were making a horrible mistake, _hurting_ someone so precious, and she would not stand for it.

Paige purposely marched out of her room once she collected herself and down the stairs. She was dressed in practical attire that she deemed appropriate for hiking, and other strenuous activities since she had no idea what they would encounter on this little venture into the mysterious wonderland. She had even donned her 'lucky' weathered boots that she had not warn since the last camping trip she had been on with her parents when she was sixteen.

Downstairs was unnervingly quiet this early in the morning, though it soon became apparent to Paige that she was not the only one awake at this hour as she spotted the supplies piled up in the parlor. She spotted her niece kneeling upon the floor in front of the mess, silently sorting and arranging everything inside of the several empty satchels.

Paige was not convinced that the amount of supplies the girl had apparently wanted to bring would fit in the small satchels, though by the time half of the pile had disappeared into the brown leather bags, she realized that these satchels were not as ordinary than she had first assumed. They were probably spelled to be infinite, to hold any amount, and she hoped that this would be a spell taught to her soon because then she could carry a small arsenal in a clutch and never worry about having to decide between trying to fit vanquishing or healing potions.

"You _could_ help, you know," Phoenicia muttered, with a brief glance over her shoulder.

Paige reddened slightly at being caught, though nonetheless approached to help.

Sensing the unspoken question, the younger woman answered, "They are called pocket dimensions. Basically you take any given space, small or large, and you provide it with some kind of opening. Usually a door, or," She shook the bag meaningfully. "Boxes, chests, purses… beyond the opening, you create the appropriate runes and such around it, creating the boundaries that will act as the walls or whatnot. And once the enchantments are activated, you have yourself empty space."

"Hence the Mary Poppins bag,"

Phoenicia blinked in disbelief. "You knew _the_ Mary Poppins?" she asked, her voice so incredulous as she stared at her aunt that Paige had the slightest idea that perhaps they were speaking of two completely different people… she had no idea how to even begin to explain one of her favorite classic movies to the poor, deprived young woman, and no time either, because not more than a moment later was the room filled with white lights as Leo and Leon appeared before them.

Both men were flushed, and clearly agitated, looking a little worse for the wear. "And just where have you two been?" Paige asked in amusement.

"They were running an errand," Phoenicia grinned. "Did you get them?"

Leon nodded, slowly easing the hold he had on the bundle in his arms. The objects were each wrapped individually with a burgundy silk wrap and leather chord binding, though as he moved, Paige saw something metallic and golden peeking through the silk. Phoenicia took one of the offered items, a calculating gleam in her eyes as she unwrapped the parcel, revealing the sheathed sward it concealed.

There was a growing sense of unease in the pit of Paige's stomach as she watched the graceful was the younger woman maneuvered the sword around her in expert and controlled movements, obviously very well versed in the art of the sword. The metal of the blade gleamed in the sunlight, and she suddenly wondered if bullying her sisters into going on this little adventure had been her greatest idea.

Paige watched as the dark haired girl nodded to herself, seemingly satisfied, before she returned the sword to its sheath and rewrapped it with the silk covering. "What all were you able to procure?" Phoenicia asked while she placed the sword, along with the rest of the bundle into another satchel, which she passed to Leon for safekeeping.

"They were not very happy to see either of us," Leo admitted wryly, and the way he gently grasped his throat was quite telling, especially the thin red line across the tender skin. "Valkyries are not very forgiving."

"We managed, though," Leon told her. "After some… _negotiations…_ we were able to get four swords, a set of throwing knives, a bow and some arrows. It should be enough for now."

Phoenicia nodded thoughtfully. "We can sort out the details of who gets what once we are there," she said, suddenly settling Leon with an indecipherable look, and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Come with me to the attic for a minute, we need to get one last thing…" He frowned deeply in return, as if listening to something only he could hear, before his features cleared and he gave a sharp nod.

Paige watched them disappear with a frown of her own. "Leo… where exactly is this place?"

"Somewhere in the Midlands…" he offered with a helpless shrug. "Honestly, the most I know is from what Leon has mentioned.

"Did he mention how we're getting there?"

Leo sighed, rubbing the base of his neck. "Not exactly,"

A few moments later both Phoenicia and Leon reappeared, looking entirely too pleased with themselves, and it made Paige decidedly uneasy. She eyed them both with suspicion, though decided to keep her silence as he sisters finally stumbled down the stairs, not yet fully awake. Both women mumbled a greeting as they shuffled into the kitchen, and Paige was pleased to see that they were already donning the practical clothing she had selected for them the previous evening. Even little Wyatt, who was nestled half-asleep against his mother's chest, looked ready to go.

Paige looked around, waiting to see one last face. "Where is Chris?"

"He is with Damien," Phoenicia informed her. "He went to get some potions and salves for us…"

Piper frowned at her as she reentered with a cup of coffee in hand. "Why would we need salves?"

Not even bothering to hide the fact that she was ignoring the query, Phoenicia finished packing the last of the provisions. "Inside each of these is everything we will need, and each of you will be helping to carry at least one thing…" She began passing out a satchel to each of them, which were accepted with wary looks. "You are in charge of our food supply, Piper," she said. "Phoebe, you get to take care of Wyatt's clothes and toys. And Paige, you get to handle our potions once we meet up with Chris."

It had escaped no one's notice that Phoenicia had neglected to state what she and Leon were carrying in their own bags, though none of them bothered to comment on it because they had already learned that they would not likely get a straight answer out of her. The house was silent for a long time save for the sound of Piper bustling around the kitchen to make a quick breakfast.

Soon they were all gathering in the foyer, securing their bags and the few personal items they wanted to bring with them, such as a change of clothes or some toiletries. Everyone fell silent as Phoenicia suddenly tilted her head, her eyes falling closed as she spoke to someone with her mind. She reopened them a moment later and smiled, extending an arm out in clear invitation.

"Time to go, so if everyone will please hold onto me…" she said, waiting as, one by one, they each took hold of the offered appendage, nerves all a mixture of excitement and apprehension.

Paige marveled at the simple touch, not only because her future niece had been so adverse to being in close proximity to any of them let alone actually touch her, but also because she could _feel_ the undercurrent of energy that was brimming beneath the pale skin. She wondered if that happened to everyone who touched her, if it was just something that was uniquely Phoenicia, or if the same thing happened when people touched her and her sisters.

Quite suddenly the magic unfurled in a brief burst as they all held on uncertainly, and it pulsed around them, manifesting with a soft breeze that swirled around them gently. And then their bodies began to fade, first becoming intangible and then disappearing all together, leaving behind an empty house. An icy air whipped around them all, stinging their eyes so they had to clench them shut, a nerve wracking sensation akin to weightless freefalling overtaking each of them.

Paige stumbled when her feet hit solid ground, trying to regain her footing as they all corporealized, realizing that whatever _that _had been, was most definitely _not_ orbing. She was accustomed to the butterflies erupting inside of her stomach, the odd sensation of being pulled apart and reassembled by her own ability. This form of teleportation had been quite different, and more than a little disorienting, and clearing she was not the only one thinking along the lines of _what the hell_ because she could see that Piper and Phoebe, and even Leo, were staring at the young woman balefully, whereas Phoenicia was clearly enjoying herself.

"Thank you for traveling Phoenicia Airlines," she said mischievously, obviously amused by their pale faces. "If you feel the need to puke, please aim in the opposite direction."

"That was awful," Piper muttered, hand over her stomach as if it might quell the nausea.

Phoenicia was decidedly unmoved. "Come on," she said still smiling, turning her heel.

Phoebe glared after her. "Remind me to ground her once she's born,"

Departing in the same direction as her niece, Paige took in their surrounding with a curious frown, wondering if there were already there, only to stumble slightly as she recognized the red brown dirt and rock of the cave, the distant sound of snarls and screams echoing all around them. She sensed the ire in her two older sisters as they too realized where they had been brought.

Piper clutched her son to her chest protectively, and Phoebe gripped the strap of her satchel with white knuckles, skittering closer into a huddle. "Is there a reason why we came down _here_? Paige asked hopefully, wanting to prevent the outburst she could sense from her sisters.

Phoenicia merely glanced back at them. "The only way to reach the Midlands is through a gateway. Gateways are basically just portals that connect different planes of existence together. All of the gates leading from the Uplands were sealed and collapsed when the majority of the magical population went into hiding. Now the only gates left open are from the Underworld, and even then there are only three of them left.

The young woman seemed to navigate the labyrinth of caves and tunnels with a surprising, if not a bit worrying, amount of ease, and they all continued to follow her reluctantly. The deeper in they traveled the more distant the grating noises became, and finally some of their tension began to ease a bit. That is, until she suddenly directed them around a corner and into a wide hall of sorts.

On either side of the enormous passage were devilish and terrifying creatures, with ominous glowing eyes and less than human features. Some of these monsters were either idly standing or sitting beside various tables and hurts set up, other were looking at the merchandise or going through inventory in this odd bazaar of shops.

One creature jumped over the table he had been behind when he spotted them, an eager expression on his orange scaled face. He appeared to be some sort of humanoid crocodile, a row of sharp, glittering teeth visible as he smiled widely at them. "Greetings travelers!" he said smoothly. "My name is—"

"No thank you Bronc," Phoenicia said, barely sparing him a glance as his face fell. "We came prepared, but if we run out of supplies we will be sure to come back."

Paige followed her niece with a tight smile to the crestfallen creature, who perked up a bit at the idea they might come back, while Piper clutched her son to her chest as she followed, gnashing her teeth together as she edged past the beast. Phoebe skittered by him nervously, though Leon and Leo just smiled kindly. There was no chance for anyone to discuss anyone once they were clear of the bazaar, because Phoenicia led them straight through an archway and into a dead ended oubliette of sorts.

A ranging inferno of molten lava bubbled dangerously below, visible between the sizable fissures in the pathway that was at least five to seven meters across. It would have surely meant certain death to them all had Phoenicia not spread her arms wide to keep anyone from moving past her. Live ashes floated around them, and the heat of the chamber caused sweat to bead at their temples.

On the opposite side of the wide crevice was a small, rocky platform that was only held in place by the walls of the cavern, and upon this platform stood Chris. The young man had his yet to notice them, his arms outstretched in front of him with the fleshy part of his palms flat against the rust colored stones.

Though they could only see his back from their vantage point, it was clear to see that whatever he was doing, he was focusing on it intently. His back stood out as tight as a stretched rubber band, the muscles outlined in his own traveling attire which clung to his slim body as sweat gathered at the small of his back in a pool. His jaw was set, and his head bowed as he concentrated on his task.

A sudden pulse of magic surged from the tense young man in a wide arch from his person, the pulse causing all of them to stumble back by the sheer force of it, cringing at the heat melded with the burst of energy. The air around them had already been hot and stifling, though now it was to the point where it was beginning to get difficult to breath. Chris himself staggered back with a loud curse, shaking his hands out as if he had been burned, though he remained uninjured.

Lifting his head to glare up at the massive wall, his arms dropped as he inhaled deeply, coughing out small puffs of both ashes and dust. "Damn it…" he sighed, running a hand through his messy dark hair.

Phoenicia took a half-step backward to brace herself, and then she made a sudden leap, ignoring the strangled cries from her family behind her. She landed heavily on the other side of the fracture, her body automatically tightening into a position that would make the impact less severe with a roll. The jump would have been completely impossible to even her had she not used her telekinesis to give her some extra height. She dusted herself off as she stood from her crouch, glancing up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Is there a problem, Christopher?" she asked teasingly.

Chris scowled at her briefly, looking as if he were tempted to give her a rude gesture in return though eventually he only crossed his arms over his chest petulantly. "This is harder than I remember," he admitted reluctantly, turning back to the wall that obstructed the entrance to their destination. He shifted in agitation. "I've tried three times already, and nothing other than me getting shoved away with a warning zap happens."

There was a slight pinch to the young woman's brows as she edged closer, pushing him aside slightly so she could take his place in front of the wall. Her legs were bent and held shoulder width apart as she took the same stance as he had been in not moments before, her arms outstretched to the stone before her as she laid her palms against it.

Eyes fluttering closed in concentration, there was a noticeable strain to her muscles as she gathered her own manage to remove this blockade. Phoenicia hissed out a pained breath a few moments later when her attempt did nothing more than push her back, stinging her hands with electricity. She narrowed her eyes at the barrier with obvious ire, and retook the position to try again.

Wind stirred in the air around her, spreading a cool breeze rather than a burning heat, dust swirling around in slight bursts as she poured her energy into the wall. "Shit," she growled as she was once again forced back, flexing her hand to rid the sensation of the warning shock for her attempt.

"What's wrong?" Phoebe called out hesitantly.

Sparing the woman a glance, Chris replied, "Just having problems getting through the wards."

"We should be able to get passed them no problem because of what we are," Phoenicia added with a petulant huff, clearly resisting the urge to stop her foot at the situation. She sighed heavily, tapping her toes on the ground as she stared thoughtfully at the barrier. After some consideration, she shared a glance at her cousin, offering her hand for him to take. "Together?"

"Might as well try," he agreed, accepting her hand within his own with some reluctance. Combining magic could be dangerous if there was not implicit trust between the people sharing, though that was not the reason for his reticence at the moment. His face was set in resignation as he lowered all of his mental and emotional defenses, feeling entirely too vulnerable and exposed, both he and the young woman letting out gasps as they opened their bond to the fullest extent possible.

Their auras manifested around them in an iridescent dance of silver and amber tendrils, blending together in a beautiful combination, their eyes reflecting the way their souls were connecting, becoming whole. It was a totally alien feeling, strange and unnerving, though at the same time… it was perfect. It felt like coming home.

"As one,"

Even their voices were one, overlapping in perfect unison as they united and stood side by side. Phoenicia extended her right arm while Chris mirrored the motion with his left, their heads bowing together as they combined their magic to do what could not be accomplished individually.

Heat poured off of the young man in waves, a contrasting blast of wind stirring the air around her, and there could be no mistaking the way the two warring energies joined to break through the obstructing barrier. Rocks and debris from above the two shifted and fell around them as the pulse of magic caused the barrier to move slightly, showing more or less the outline of the hidden doorway.

It shifted and moved, the slab of rock forced back at least seven inches before it stopped, and both Phoenicia and Chris heaved with fatigue and looked up to survey their success. Identical scowls appeared on their faces as they realized that, though they had managed to _move_ the slab, it had not moved enough to actually grant anyone access.

Leaning on each other for support, the two turned their heads as they mentally discussed their next move, and suddenly they both settled their eyes upon the rest of their party who were still gathered on the opposite ledge, watching on with speculation.

Piper took a subtle step back as they realized that the two were staring intently at the child held protectively within the embrace of her arms, but before she could protest they had already spoken her infant son's name. He disappeared from her grasp with a flurry of blue and white lights even as she desperately tried to hold onto him.

Wyatt rematerialized a moment later, his small shoes resting on the platform between the two teenagers. He wrapped his small fingers around the conjoined hands, curling his stubbly fingers around an extended pinky from each and offering his magic to them so that they were all connected. The child remained remarkably still as the worried parents and aunts watched on anxiously to see what would happen as Phoenicia and Chris moved back into their previous positions.

Once again they threw their combined magic at the wall, the pulse reaching out to the barrier, and this time, the heavy stone was thrust back almost violently, though it slowed to a halt the moment it reached the back edge of the threshold. The outline was suddenly alit with a golden glow, and the slab of rock moved of its own accord, foreign magic grasping at the door and moving the heavy stone, causing it to retreat into the rocky ceiling above.

Beyond the threshold of the entryway was not quite another world to behold, but very close indeed. There were two tall statues directly inside, standing on either side of the pathway. The statues were made of a type of polished beryl, soft aquamarine bursts and veins visible throughout the entire sculpture.

Foliage and spidery green vines curled around the heavy bases, small blossoms of exotic flowers creeping up between the bared toes of the two women depicted in polished stone, wrapping around the muscled legs. They were in immaculate condition, despite the fact that they had been sitting here neglected for several hundred years.

These women were dressed as warriors, their bodies encased with form fitting armor that was designed to fit the contours and curved of their feminine bodies, though clearly allowed for agile mobility. The uniforms made them appear like a united pair, though a second glance showed that the symbols they bore, engraved into the small shields they carried, were quite different from each other.

One arm of each woman was held vertically towards the other, each standing proud and regal, they held a sizable jewel between them. It gleamed brightly, emitting a light which only glowed brighter as the young man entered the small antechamber. The space between the two colossal beings immortalized in beryl was a shimmering image of the shrubbery and moss covered trees behind them, the air distorted and seeming to have an almost _liquid_ texture to it that rippled in the soft breeze around them.

This was the gateway, a portal tucked away carefully in a protected and hidden oasis, the flora within the small chamber giving a small glimpse of what awaited beyond the shimmering gate. It was beautiful, and enticing, and everyone felt themselves relax voluntarily as they peered through the entrance.

Phoenicia crouched down and picked up her young cousin, holding the child gently as she turned to look at her uncles. "Bring them over," she called to the two men, who obediently grasped the sisters and transported them to the opposite side of the ledge. She easily allowed her aunt to take Wyatt from her, though not before sending the boy a grateful smile for his help.

_Chris is going to be most upset when he finds out what you did, Sir Jinxalot… _she thought to the younger boy, who stared up at her with an expression of utmost innocence. She smirked at him, shaking her head, though turned away to follow her oblivious cousin.

Leading the group through the two guardian statues, Chris walked confidently through the liquid air that the portal was made of, the others following more cautiously behind. It was decidedly an odd feeling, walking through the portal, akin to what swimming through a pool of gelatin would be, liquescent and fluid though yielding and solid at the same time in a way that engulfed them for one claustrophobic moment before they stumbled out the other side.

The sky above was somber and ashen, the raging dark clouds producing a light drizzle of rain in the hidden hills of the high mountain range, which fell softly upon the ground around them as one by one, they each caught themselves, staring around them in intrigue and awe.

Morning mists were still drifting below, just above the enormous evergreen trees of the forest that surround the overhanging cliffs they stood upon, the summit which the gateway rested high enough that the ocean was moderately visible in the distance, violent tides crashing into the blackened reef. Rolling hills faded away in the haze, the horizon nothing but blurry gray smog that hid the rest of the world around them.

On this side of the gateway, there were another set of statues, though these differed greatly from the others in a number of ways. These figures were male in form, their bodies in a similar pose, tall and proud, and the symbols engraved into the shields different still from the ones their female counterparts adorned. The men were heavily muscled, their faces severe and fierce whereas the women had been calm and peaceful. And the stone they were made of were not the same soft, emerald pastels, but angry and vivid red and black, oddly reflective of the place where this portal led to.

"Wow…" breathed Phoebe as she allowed honeyed brown eyes to soak in the otherworldly view around her, only to shriek loudly as something suddenly swooped in front of her face. Something soft though leathery slapped against her forehead as it rounded her head, a flash of red before her eyes before it retreated into some long leafed shrubs.

Phoebe jerked away, ducking behind the large, muscular form of Leon for protection as he instinctively withdrew a sword seemingly out of nowhere. Before he could put the blade to any use, he released a grunt as his wrist was captured, his arm twisted behind his back before he had no choice but to drop the weapon or risk injury.

"Do _not _attack _anything_," Chris advised with aggression, releasing his father as he scooped up the weapon, twisting the sword around with expert agility, offering it back to the older man by the hilt, whereas it was placed back into the small satchel with a sheepish look. He glanced over to Phoebe, who was cautiously peeking her head around Leon's shoulder, gently offering, "He is more afraid of you than you were of him,"

"What was it?" she asked in return.

Kneeling slowly where the small assailant had disappeared, the young man reached a calm hand just outside of the safety the bushes provided for the creature. He winched slightly as sharp, needle-like teeth sunk into the fleshy part of his palm lightning quick, only a small ruby scaled snout visible from the underbrush. He ignored the instinct to jerk away, and instead held his hand there patiently and speaking soothing words to coax the frightened beast into releasing him.

It took mere moments for the teeth to retract, and intelligent eyes of molten gold inched out cautiously, the creature sensing that he made no harm and moving out from the sanctuary, though clearly ready to return at any sign of danger. Blood beaded up from the small bite, and it stung slightly, though Chris refused to move until he was certain the movement would not scare the creature.

The snout was rounded, an almost feline quality to the facial structure if not for the nostrils being naught but small slits, and the neck long and graceful. Small, cured ears flicked up at the young man with a curious tilt, and the beast stepped forward minutely, revealing the petite body and round belly, the leathery wings extended wide just in case it felt threatened enough to fly away. The creature was only the size of a small rabbit, and just as skittish.

A calm smile on his face, Chris kept his bleeding hand out in offering, and with a small trill of remorse, a forked tongue danced across his palm in apology. "It's alright," he told the creature softly, laughing as it suddenly launched itself into the air, landing precariously upon his shoulder, climbing up until it was sitting atop his head, small claws gripping onto the unkempt hair.

"What is it?" asked Paige in wonder, smiling in amusement as the wings spread wide and flapped wildly, as if the small creature were attempting to fly away with the boy but was too small that it could not bear his weight.

"Looks like a wyvern," Leon replied, grinning at the disappointed trill the little beast emitted when it realized that it could not, in fact, steal his son away and carry the boy off to his nest. "They are a subspecies of dragon, though they tend to stick to the warmer regions, such as the outcroppings of a volcano."

Chris snickered to himself when he felt the long tail wrap itself gently around his neck. "Wonder what he is doing out in this weather," he mused, reaching up to tickle the rotund belly. He glanced at his cousin, who was staring at the small dragon with a considering frown, obviously reading the primitive thoughts.

"There was an ice storm a few days ago, and he got lost," she said finally. "He felt the heat from the portal and thought it would be a safe place to hide, but the guardian refused to allow him through."

"Oh, poor little thing," Paige cooed up at it, offering her own hand, which the wyvern gave a decidedly affronted sniff and promptly turned its nose up at. She wrinkled her own nose at the creature at the rebuff, her tongue poking out in retaliation. "You're not that cute," she snorted, rolling her eyes as it mimicked the action, wriggling a forked tongue out at her.

Phoenicia grinned humorously at the interaction, shrugging out of her satchel and opening the flap before reaching inside. She extracted a heavy cloak, with thick fur lining the inside that was sure to keep the wearer perfectly warm beneath it. She pulled it on before removing several more and distributing them amongst the group, until they were all wrapped up warm and secure.

Piper frowned as she fingered the ties around her chest. "You were expecting cold weather?" she asked warily.

"This particular gateway is high in the northern mountains of the island," the younger woman pointed out. "Of course I was expecting it to be cold. Hence, me coming prepared." She shook her satchel meaningfully before she tugged the hood of her cloak over her head to keep the rain from dampening her hair.

"Did you just say _island_?" Leo asked curiously. "We're under ground,"

"This place is kind of… like a snow globe," Chris said quietly, as he extracted a small device from his pocket, a flat and round object with a small spinning dial and a set face. He studied it as he spoke. "At the center is this island, which is surrounded by a large body of water, which is completely surrounded by stone on all sides. The wards are impenetrable, constantly being changed and improved by millions of powerful people…"

"How big is this island?" Paige asked.

Chris frowned, looking at their surroundings thoughtfully. "Honestly, I have no idea because the earth elementals have a habit of expanding their territories quite often, and of course the water elementals would never allow themselves to be outdone, so they expand the sea…" He shrugged. "There is no way to be sure."

Piper suddenly realized what he was studying so intently, and crossed her arms. "Is that a compass?" she asked, though it was more of a demand. "Do you even know where we _are_?" She quickly decided that she did not like the way her niece and Chris shared a glance that spoke very clearly to her, and she glared at them. "This is ridiculous! I am not traipsing around a forest with little dragons with my infant son. We're going home." She declared, taking ahold of Leo's arm with her free hand, clearly expecting him to do the same. She already knew that Leon would choose to continue on with this insanity.

Phoebe and Paige shifted uneasily.

"Are you two coming, or not?" Piper demanded.

"… We're staying," said Paige carefully.

Phoebe nodded beside her, and Piper looked a bit taken aback by their decision, if not a bit betrayed, though she steeled her expression and looked at her husband expectantly. Leo himself gave everyone an apologetic expression, closing his eyes as he prepared to orb the woman and his son home if only to spare them all from her anger, though his brows pinched together, stumped as he discovered that he could not access if ability at all.

In fact, he could not access any of his abilities when he tried.

Before the panic could set in, Phoenicia laughed an uproarious laugh. "You should see your face, uncle Leo!" she gasped through her laughter, her cheeks reddening as she smiled widely, clutching at her sides as she gasped for air. Even Chris was staring at her strangely, unsure why she was so entertained. "Oh come on," she smirked at her aunt. "Do you really think that my powers were so far gone that I didn't anticipate you wanting to back out before the adventure even began?"

"What did you do?" Leon asked her cautiously.

Phoenicia cackled, positively _cackled_, with delight. "_I _didn't do anything," she said with wide, innocent eyes, and suddenly swept her arms out wide. "Welcome to what is considered to be the outer realm of the Midlands, the _borders_, where any magic other than elemental, is null and void… there _is _a reason I picked _this_ particular gateway instead of one that lead closer to the inner realm. And don't even think about backtracking through that portal,"

The older woman paused, having been preparing to do just that. "And why is that?"

With the smuggest look yet, Phoenicia told her, "Because that heavy door Chris and I had such a hard time opening… it slid back into place about twenty seconds ago, and there is no possible way you could ever get it open again without at least _one_ elemental to help channel the correct forms of magic. Pity." She grinned at the end of her little speech, victory reflecting in her eyes as she watched her aunt fume silently.

Hesitating only briefly as he realized just how furious his mother was with this situation, Chris set a moderate pace once he got his bearings from the compass. His boots made deep impressions in the soft, moist dirt as he walked down the dampened path, and he glanced behind him once in a while to make sure he was not going too fast for anyone to keep up with him, while the wyvern seemed content to curl up in the nest it had made of his hair, clearly enjoying the heat emitting from the young man.

Chris had to pause several times to get his bearings as they moved down the mountainside, because he was acutely aware of the fact that this journey would be quite different from the one he had taken as a child. For one, the man who had basically abducted his brother, cousins, and him had taken them through a completely different portal, much closer to their destination. Though then, he had been equal parts scared and confused, clinging to his big brother for protection, and much too in awe of the clearly magical world around him to bother to keep track of his surroundings.

And, as he had said before, the earth elementals were always reimagining the terrain, changing it into something completely unrecognizable, and the moment he thought he knew where they were, he realized that no, he was not entirely sure where they were. Truthfully he only knew the general direction of the majestic city, and even then it was only because from their high vantage point, he had seen the ocean from two angles, which meant as long as they continued down south, they would eventually reach their destination.

"Do you even know where we're going?" Piper asked not more than fifteen minutes later.

"Vaguely," Chris muttered under his breath, though he said in a louder voice," Of course I do!" He narrowed his eyes as his cousin pranced by happily, soaking up the world around her. One thing Chris knew for sure was that it would take them at least two to three days to reach the city from their current location, which was something he had a feeling that she had also neglected to mention to anyone.

Phoenicia bounded closer to him with a mischievous smile. "Go ahead and say it," she sang.

"You're _impossible!_"

"I know," she smiled.

Chris stared at her, shaking his head. "I thought you said you would explain to them that they would be essentially powerless here, and have to rely on us until we reach one of the cities in the inner realm,"

"I did… just not _before _it was too late to turn back," Phoenicia giggled as the wyvern hissed at her warningly, apparently sensing that the young man was upset with her for not being candid with him before. "He is very protective of you already," she commented with a smirk. "Even if you were to find a home for him in a volcano, he would refuse to leave your side…"

Chris felt the tail tighten briefly around his neck as if in agreement and sighed. "I know," he said with a half-smile. He had never had a pet before, though he couldn't imagine a better one than a miniaturized dragon for someone like him. It seemed oddly fitting, considering that once this little one was fully matured, it would have limited control over fire as well. "I guess he needs a name, then,"

"… How about _Wuffle_?" the dark haired girl suggested with a wink, skittering away with a laugh as he swatted at her in return. _Wuffle_, of course, being what he had named his childhood stuffed animal, which had been a crimson dragon, coincidentally. "Okay, okay…" She tilted her head in thought. "Ooh, I know. Name him _Draco_!"

A dark eyebrow rose in disbelief. "You want me to name a dragon, _dragon_?"

"It would be funny!" she insisted.

It took the group at least an hour and a half to reach the base of the mounted where they encountered trees that towered high above them, and by that point the sky had brightened considerably as the clouds began to disperse. Instead of a vibrant blue sky, there was a dim mauve tint to the horizon stretching from what appeared to be sunlight which was certainly not a golden yellow but a bright, searing violet. Though the light was obscured the deeper they ventured within the depths of the forest, thick and lush foliage blotting it out considerably.

Throughout the majority of the walk down the mountainside paths, Piper had remained stubbornly silent, though her sisters seemed to have no problem asking questions about everything in sight—No Paige, do not touch that! It may look like a pretty flower, but the pollen causes paralysis instantaneously!— eagerly soaking up all of the information they could about their surroundings.

Eventually the oldest Halliwell sister finally loosened up and began asking questions of her own. Her tone of voice, which had been oozing with disdain ever since she discovered that she was essentially a prisoner until they could reach a village or town deep in the heart of this land, had gradually lost the bite it had. Even she had to admit that she was positively fascinated by everything the Midlands seemed to possess, and rightly so considering that the world around them was one where magic was practiced freely and accepted by all who lived here.

It was a world that they had only dreamed of before, some intangible thought that cropped up in their hopes and dreams every once in a while when times got tough And to be surrounded by such a raw magic that seemed to permeate the very air they breathed and the ground they walked upon, held a certain appeal to it that none of them could resist, especially with all of the exotic plant life and strange, unimaginable creatures that existed all throughout the outer realm, some of them recognizable from the surface history, having been thought extinct for hundreds, possibly even thousands of years.

This place was a viable wonderland.

"So… dinosaurs?" the youngest sister listed. "Do they have them here?"

Phoenicia nodded as she sipped some water. "Of course, quite a few migrated here long before the ones that stayed upstairs died out. Most of the herbivores live close to the cities, and the carnivores learned to keep a decent distance now. They know better than to try to attack anyone too, even if they were to go near any populated areas."

"Can we see them?"

"Might see one or two on the way…"

Piper appeared very uneasy. "Dinosaurs are dangerous,"

"Not really," Chris countered. "Just territorial and most wont attack without provocation,"

"But—"

"_Quiet_."

Phoenicia had not spoken out loud, her lips remaining unmoving though every single one of them heard her as clearly as if she had whispered into their ears, and fell silent accordingly. She quietly moved a few paces ahead of everyone else, her eyes calculating as she peered around them, her senses warning her of several men and creatures just over the crest of a hill in front of them.

A glance to the side assured her that Chris could feel the disturbance as well, Phoenicia discovering him beside her with wide eyes as he undoubtedly felt the massacre taking place and the innocent souls lost. "This is not why we are here," she told him gently, feeling his urge to go save these people.

If they did, they would fall behind on their schedule, wasting valuable time that could instead be used to execute the remainder of their plan. Though just as she knew that, she also knew there would be no dissuading her cousin from doing something about this, something he felt was right. And why should she try to dissuade him to begin with? They were very much alike in their compassion for others, although she had to admit that he was even more so.

"We should not change history…" she said halfheartedly.

The young man drew in a deep breath and began walking forward resolutely, his hands balled into fists. It was not in his nature to allow people to suffer needlessly, not if it was within his power to help it. "What are we here for," Chris said quietly as he gently dislodged his wyvern from atop his head, and passing the protesting little dragon over to Leo for safekeeping. "If not to change history?"

Phoenicia could not help the involuntary smile on her face at his answer, nodding her head in conformity. She glanced at the others, warning them mentally to stay hidden before she hurried to catch up, falling into step beside him. "You don't get to have all the fun, Christopher," She rubbed her palms together eagerly. "A real battle," she breathed. "Hope you are ready for this…"

Chris spared her a sharp nod. "No showing off," he warned her. "Be direct. Use brutal force, the most powerful spell that have…"

"As long as I ends this quickly," she agreed solemnly.

"No wonder you two are always getting into so much trouble," Leon said as he hurriedly strolled up beside them, withdrawing a sword from his satchel since his powers would not work here. He knew that, from their brief conversation that he shamelessly eavesdropped on, that he would most likely not have the time to actually use the weapon, though it was best to be prepared when running into unforeseeable danger. "You two go looking for it,"

The moment the trio crested the hill, the forest around them giving way to a tall, grassy meadow, they could all see the ongoing battle below. At least a group of twenty men, all clad in glittering armor, were desperately struggling to keep themselves alive as they faced their enemy, wielding medieval weapons as they fought against the vicious, gruesome creatures that towered over them twofold.

These beasts were at least as tall as three men together, nearing eighteen feet, gnarled trunks of broken trees torn from the land around them, roots dangling like fierce whips as their weapons. Tough, oily skin was pulled taut over robust muscles, blunt yellowing teeth revealing their humor as the sharp sting of metal proved to be a mere annoyance rather than a fatal blow

One beast knocked several men over with one swing of the makeshift wooden club.

It was a sight that froze Chris dead in his tracks, his hand rising instinctively to slow their descent back to the unforgiving ground, though he belatedly realized that he could not access his telekinesis to make their landing easier. He watched on in horror as the men lay unmoving amongst the grass, the sickening sound of bones shattering upon impact still ringing in his ears. He closed his eyes briefly, inwardly praying that, though they were obviously severely injured, that they were still alive.

There was no ingenious plan on how to save these men from their fate, no inkling of what he would do as he sprinted to join the fray in hopes of defeating these mountain trolls. He only knew that he could not just let these people die while he stood idly by, letting it happen. His heart beat rang out in his ears, a frantic but steady _thump_ as he finally reached the bottom of the hill, running quickly to place himself between one of the trolls and it's next target, an older man who was lying in a pool of his own blood.

Sea green eyes flickered to live violently with an inner fire as the beast snarled down at him, decidedly unimpressed by his new opponent. And then the ongoing battle around them suddenly came to an abrupt standstill, both men and beast alike whipping around as a deafening reverberation cut through the clatter of swords uselessly cutting at flesh, all shuddering as the once monumental beast suddenly just collapsed over, the impact of the body causing tremors that unfooted most everyone nearby.

It was a sound that sent birds and other forest animals scattering away in fear.

Quakes shook the ground in aftershocks of the collision the beast made with the hardened earth, the grass forced away from the fallen creature in a plume that shriveled and crisped in the sudden heat. The rest of the vile creatures could only grunt in shock at their fallen comrade, because the creature was still alive, mouth wide in a silent scream as he clawed at his own oily skin, torn and chipped nails desperately attempting to remove the source of whatever was _burning_ his blood. His insides were positively boiling, pussy blisters beginning to sprout and spread over every inch of the beast, the stomach bloating as his organs began to liquefy.

And standing over him, unearthly eyes burning with pure amber flames, one hand casually outstretched over the agonized creature, was a very powerful young man. He withdrew his element silently, ruthlessly pushing down the small amount of pity he felt for causing so much pain, and knelt beside a passive bare foot. Fingers grazed the ankle of the beast briefly, and he watched as the glowing hot embers engulfed the body in one instant before it suddenly burst into gray and black ashes.

Stranding slowly as his heart pounded for another reason entirely now, Chris managed to gaze steadily at the other trolls as they finally got over their shock and heaved their makeshift clubs up as they all seemed to come to an accord to solely attack him for the loss of their companion. His fingers shook slightly as he braced himself, the edges of his vision already graying as panic began to fill his mind.

_No, no, no…_ he thought desperately. _Can't…_

Before any of the enormous creatures could take a single step, an unexpected burst of wind suddenly swept over them with enough force to shove them back several paces, the heavens above beginning to stir, violent and white blending together menacingly as the clouds began to drift towards the earth at a rapid speed.

Leaves and roots were torn unwillingly from the surrounding terrain of the meadow, all of the tall grass ruthlessly uprooted as soil lifted itself to join the twisting vortex as it finally touched down. The scattered soldiers remained miraculously unmoved by the winds, save for the way their hair and clothing whipped around their bodies as they inched closer to aid their fallen comrades.

The young woman summoning the mammoth whirlwind walked steadily closer until she stood shoulder to shoulder with her cousin, her own eyes a deep gray of stormy rage as the twister swirled threateningly between her and the massive trolls, beads of perspiration already gathering at her temples as she felt the winds attempt to remove themselves from her controlled grasp.

One troll was stupid enough to continue charging towards the two of them, mindless of the tornado obstructing his path, Phoenicia watching coolly as it faltered as it drew near, struggling to keep his massive feet firmly on the ground with the cyclone progressively drawing him closer and closer to oblivion. He bawled loudly as he was finally swept away, six yards enclosing, his screams lost in the hurricane that was gathering.

In the next breath a great cheer of victory arose throughout the clearing as the remaining trolls decided it would be wisest to retreat for now. Ever so slowly the clouds began to disperse high above, the debris that had gathered falling uselessly to the earth around them, and the air cooled as the raging heat began to thin out until there was nothing more than a soft, natural breeze throughout the clearing.

Inhaling desperately, the two young saviors each fell to their knees, both feeling incredibly drained and only vaguely aware of the hands suddenly grasping at them to keep them from falling completely. Exhaustion was evident in the way their breathing was shallow, and the way their eyelashes fluttered in a futile fight against unconsciousness.

It had been too long since either of them had used their abilities to such an extent, far too long, and just like a rusted machine they were both ready to give out at any moment.

Arms drew around Phoenicia, one going around her shoulder and another beneath her knees, and she could only allow such a blatant invasion of her personal space as the stranger lifted her into his arms. Her side was pressed against the cool metal of armor and chainmail, her cheek coming to rest of the leather of the man's bloodstained shirt. Beside her, two men moved to stand on either side of Chris, supporting his weight by pulling his arms over their shoulders, another nameless man hoisting his feet into the air so they could carry him.

Leon stood worriedly beside his son, hands wringing with concern before he suddenly turned his heel and hurried up the hill so he could retrieve the bag of medical supplies they had brought with them. He doubted there would be much he could do for neither his son nor his niece, though he and Leo could certainly do something to aid the soldiers that had been wounded in the battle for their lives.

Both had succumbed to unconsciousness by the time he and the others had arrived to deal with the aftermath.

**End  
Chapter**

And there you have it. This was actually meant to have been posted yesterday or at least earlier this morning, though unfortunately real life interrupted my writing time before I had a chance to finish it. I apologize in advance for the numerous spelling errors I know must be hidden in there, but after staring at a black and white screen for so many hours, the words just seem to drift together. Hopefully it was still enjoyable to read because this was really fun to write…

Lynx


	16. The Houseguest

**Finding Yourself  
**_The Houseguest_

**Saturday, November 29th, 2003  
**The very first thing he took notice was that it was too quiet, not even the melodic chirp of a cricket to ease his tension. Everything inside looked just as it did on his previous visit, although it had not escaped him that the exterior had changed, some sort of barrier evaluating him before granting him entry. It was some sophisticated magic to be certain, though he could expect no less from the occupants in this house.

… who were obviously not home.

Forcing himself to release the paranoid grip he had on the blade always carried, he shuffled deeper inside of the house that most of his kind had only dreamed of entering before. He was uncertain if this would be allowed, if he should come in when no one was home. Considering what happened last time, he was equal parts disappointed and elated to find himself unattended, especially since he had a task to carry out.

It went against his instincts not to explore the new territory, but he valiantly resisted this urge in order to place the various obsidian crystals throughout the house, making sure they were well hidden if only to maintain the image he was hiding behind. The crystals, he had been told, could work as a transmitter to the scrying mirror they were connected to, a type of magical surveillance to ensure it would be seen.

As he was concealing the last of the enchanted stones in the infamous attic, brown eyes were unwillingly drawn to the podium on the far end, illuminated by the majestic windows behind it. He debated with himself for several minute, knowing he would be overstepping his bounds by approaching. It would surely anger the Halliwell sisters beyond measure should he even dare, though before he could stop himself his feet were moving toward it.

The _Book of Shadows_, he thought, setting sight on it for the first, and sure to be the last, time. It was a bit thicker than was rumored, the hardcover worn and clearly thoroughly abused from being searched through countless times, and he could see the appeal of owning it for himself. If tales were to be believed, it contained a multitude of spells and potions, various ways to vanquish almost every demon, and information on nearly every creature in existence.

Hand rising on its own accord, he hesitated, fingers hovering just at the corner of the book. Another rumor was that this particular book was sentiment, and would protect itself from evil. It was rumor, of course, because no one who ever touched it ever lived to confirm the tale or not. If it did protect itself, did that include him? He had never considered himself to be either good or evil, and his actions had always been full of self-purpose, revenge and survival, rather than any real kind of intent.

Holding his breath, the man lowered his hand the rest of the way, flinching in anticipation for whatever kind of retaliation he would receive. _Nothing_… He had not been zapped by an electric current or burned alive or even harmed in anyway. Tension slowly drained from his shoulders as he stared at the well-known symbol before him, the elliptical shapes mesmerizing as he reminded himself that he needed to breathe.

With gentle, reverent hands, he opened the glorious book to the first page—and blinked. He had been expecting beautiful calligraphy on weathered pages, and instead he found a handwritten note on what looked to be printer paper, and upon further inspection, he balked, realizing that the note was written to _him_. His first thought was to drop the book and walk away, because clearly someone had been expecting him to snoop around, but his curiosity had been piqued, and the letter _was_ addressed to him after all.

_Dear Raze, _it read in elaborate, curly lettering. _Bet you are freaking out right about now, huh? Deep breaths, big boy! Deep breaths! Sorry about that. I saw that you were coming in to place the crystals and knew you would look at the book, so I figured this would be the best place to put this. Oh, and yay, you're not evil! Not that I thought you were, but I know you were worried about it. The book only zaps and flees from people with ill intent, which obviously, you don't have._

_Worry wart._

_Hope you are well, and I was glad that those meanies didn't give you a hard time for only returning with a pendulum, but I'm afraid it was all I had to offer at that time. Congratulations on making it to Phase Two of Witch Wars, by the way! Don't give me that look, mister! So far that stupid 'show' is harmless. "Go here, retrieve a souvenir, and if you live to make it back, now you have to go plant cameras!" Preliminary rounds are so lame. And really, a demontic game show where they stalk, hunt and kill witchen for sport? Words cannot express just how pathetic that is. Especially since their ultimate goal is to steal the powers the winner collects._

_Don't worry about the next few rounds, I've already placed all of the other 'victims' in protective custody and replaced them with golems—animated replicas—so feel free to go crazy with all the stabbing and blood and just. If you want to be uber-dramatic to secure your place in the top five, eat the bodies, because instead of clay, I made them from a strawberry cake that was in the refrigerator. And don't worry about the game show hosts, they will be dealt with in due time._

_Speaking of golems, could you be a dear and activate the three down in the basement for me? Me and Chris, my cousin, are basically kidnapping my family for a few weeks, and they are under the misconception that we will only be gone two days. We are going to reeducate them, so I don't know what they were thinking. Were they honestly expecting to learn everything they need to know in two days? Yeah right, not even with the acceleration spells would they do that… not even with a smart spell! :p_

_Anyhow, the cronies in charge of Witch Wars will not activate those crystals for eight more days, and twenty hours, so you are welcome to stay in one of the rooms in the basement—my mom and aunts would skin you alive if you slept in one of their beds—just tweak the little knob on the door down there until you find a room you want to stay in. So relax and enjoy yourself, and look after the place. Oh, there should be plenty of food in the house, so help yourself!_

_Lots of love,  
Phoenicia_

_P.S.  
Please remove this paper once you're done… and if you want to look at the book, hold your hand over it and say 'activate/deactivate' so make it appear/disappear. Have fun!_

Dark brown eyes stared at the paper in disbelief, lifting the paper from where it was wedged into the crease of the book, shaking his head. "This girl is clearly insane," he declared to the empty room, sighing as he ran a hand over the top of his head. Not only was she insane but she was also quite amusing, and clearly clairvoyant considering she had anticipated his every move, and he looked forward to interacting with her again in the future… but never for long periods of time.

The large brute demon glanced back at the book uncertainly, and then he carefully cradled it in his hands as he retreated from the attic. He would look through it soon, though he had to make a journey to the lower levels of the building first, to activate the golems like he had been asked to. He found them resting against a wall in the basement, and nearly jumped back automatically in fear that he had just walked into some sort of trap where the Charmed Ones would flay him alive for touching the precious artifact, let alone carrying around their house.

It became apparent that the three women, however, were not moving at all, and in fact seemed to be _dead_. He approached the figures with caution, eyeing each one uncertainly, pausing when he got a good look at their faces because though from afar these _things_ were realistic, up close they were clearly not human, and in fact looked to be made of some type of silicone. He idly wondered how they could pass for the real people they represented, as he attempted to figure out just _how_ he was supposed to animate them.

"Activate," Raze guessed, waving one hand over the nearest doll, deep voice shifting to a high pitched squeak when the middle one, the one who looked as if she had wanted to blow him up with a flick of her wrists the other day, suddenly blinked, looking much more _alive_ and_ real_ then he had been expected. The skin seemed to soften before his eyes, the lank hair becoming silky and the entire body jolted away from the wall.

"Hello Raze," the golem greeted him, the voice even sounding human, and familiar though not tinged with anger this time. She walked forward unsteadily, and it took all of his will power not to take several steps back to avoid her coming any closer. "My name is Piper Halliwell. Would you like something to eat?"

"Uh…" the man breathed with wide eyes, watching in fascination as the jerky movements smoothed into a confident and graceful stride. "Sure?" She smiled politely at him, and holy hell, how could this _thing_ look so _real_? He stared after her as she retreated up the stairs, before turning to the other two. He sighed heavily, and prepared himself to experience the strange phenomenon once more.

This would certainly be an interesting few weeks.

Over the shoulder of the large, chocolate skinned man, Isaac watched as scarily accurate versions of the other two sisters were animated to life. He shuddered at the sight of them, because it was damn creepy. Golems reminded him too much of that old horror movie where the doll came to life and went on a killing spree, which is why he decided to steer clear of the three _fake_ women.

Isaac sighed when he entered the familiar room where his mentor had taken up residence, laying upon the floral coverlet on the bed, with his hands resting on his stomach as he stared up at the ceiling. Cole had been in this position for hours, occasionally turning though only to press his nose to the soft pillow and inhale the soft scent lingering there from when his ex-wife had last slept there.

"Dude," he rolled his eyes. "I get it, you're depressed and yearning, and can you just cry a river, build a bridge and get the hell over it already?"

Cole blinked at the ceiling, unmoved by his words.

Groaning, Isaac flopped bodily into the armchair by the window. "You're killing me here man," he told him. "You are supposed to be the responsible one, not me," He huffed when there was still no response, muttering incoherent threats under his breath for his soon to be ex-best friend. "_Gonna kill Wy for this, pain in the ass, never cast a freakin' spell right even when his life depends on it, jerk off…_"

This was beginning to irritate him, and the moment he got his hands on that blond, horrendous spell casting fool, Isaac swore to ensure he died a very painful and violent death. He had spent the entire night dreaming of ways to torture Wyatt in fact, when he discovered that in his current state, apparent sleep was not an option. Neither was food, which just sucked, because food was awesome and he could really go for some pie right about now if only to comfort him.

"There is a demon in the house."

The older man had not even the courtesy to blink this time.

"He looks like a wrestler," Isaac continued. "Probably a brute,"

Cole remained still as death, save for the soft inhales and exhales.

Isaac twitched uneasily, despising silence now more than ever. He was not a quiet man, and he did not do well when there was no one to talk to. He became especially irritating. "Have I ever mentioned how beautiful your daughter is?" he tried again, one last attempt. "Especially _naked_… damn, girl has legs that go on forever…"

Cole stiffened, and the younger man grinned in success.

"Ooh, hit a nerve?" he asked smugly.

"… Do you ever _shut up_?" the blue eyed man demanded to know, hands falling to the side as he sat up, glaring across the room at him. "What Phoenicia would ever see in annoying runt like you is beyond me,"

"She wuvs me bunches!"

"What do you want?" Cold asked, exasperated.

"Have you thought of a way out yet?"

Cole stared at him. "I have been trapped in this hell since the day I was vanquished, and you are expecting me to figure out how to get out in a day and a half?"

"Did you?"

"No!"

Isaac pouted. "Don't have to yell,"

"My daughter is never dating you,"

"Awe, you don't mean that,"

"How did my future self even tolerate you?" Cole glared. "You're like the thing that wouldn't shut up."

"Wait a minute," Isaac gasped suddenly, leaping up from the chair, pointing at the other man with a dramatic wave of his hand. "I remember you. I remember telling you that I was building my pool where your house was, and then you got mad at me. Oh! And you turned me into a llama!"

"… What," Cole stared. "The hell?"

Isaac snorted. "Never mind," he smirked. "You'll get it in a few years."

"Do I even want to know?"

"Let's just say that Mia has a bit of an obsession with cartoons and leave it at that," Isaac told him wryly, expelling a sigh when the other man only continued to stare at him as if he were psychotic. Who was the one who decided to take over the Underworld here, and Cole thinks he is psychotic? Right. "So… whatcha doing?"

"… We need to get out of here," Cole declared, shaking his head. "I ask again, how does my future self tolerate you? I don't think I could take much more of your insane psychobabble."

"Because I'm awesome,"

Cole rose with a roll of his eyes. This kid was demented, and if he thought Cole was going to let him anywhere near his daughter after all of this, then he was truly senseless. "Any ideas, genius? Because I have none. Are you even sure I ever managed to escape in the original timeline?"

Isaac sighed, looking around the room in thought. "Have you tried calling your guardian angel already?" he muttered absently, not even meaning to voice it, though the moment he did he blinked, his own moss green eyes widening because he was sure he was on to something. Growing up practically inside of this house, he had been privy to quite a few stories about every little stunt or adventure the sisters had ever been involved with. How had he overlooked _this_?

"Excuse me?"

"You know," he floundered, searching his memory. "Mia's auntie,"

"Paige?" Cole replied, looking lost. "She hates me, and she's not even here."

Isaac shook his head. "The other one,"

"Piper isn't even a whitelighter," The man frowned, continuing after a beat. "Whitelighters can't even _see_ us, what makes you think they can help even if they were willing to? Leo couldn't even see us, either version and he is an _Elder_,"

"I _know_ whitelighters can't see us, Einstein," Isaac scowled. "I'm not stupid you know. I was talking about the _dead_ one,"

"Prue?"

A strange sound filled the room, almost like wings of a bird flapping in the air, and suddenly a very familiar figure appeared in the center of the room. Her hair was long, cascading past her shoulders in dark waves, and she smirked in delight at the obvious shock painted across the face of the man who spoke her name. She dusted imaginary lint off of the long white dress she wore, watching with far too much amusement.

"Not even a '_good to see you_?" she teased. "Some things never change."

"Now I _know_ this is hell…" Cole muttered.

**End  
Chapter**

How is everyone's summer? Less stressful than mine, I hope.

Not the chapter I was meaning to post. Sometimes the little scenes I write tend to go their own way, and this was actually supposed to be the opening scene what was to be an enormous chapter, though I felt it was a bit out of place there so I broke it in half—as I have been known to do—and gave it a chapter of its own. The other half is still a work in progress, and hopefully I will finish it within the next few days… and I told you Raze would be back!

Although, I'll let you decide who the real _houseguest_ is ;p


	17. The Elementals

**Finding Yourself  
**_The Elementals_

**Saturday, November 29th, 2003  
**Coarse cords bit into the delicate skin of his wrists and forearms as he struggled against the restraints, arms completely bound together behind his back. His back was pressed against another, and it took him several minutes to discern just who was behind him. Leon glanced over his shoulder, mumbling into the cloth that was wrapped tightly around his jaw, preventing him from speaking coherently to his counterpart, who was likewise bound. He had no idea where the sisters were but he was assuming they were in a similar situation.

Replaying the events in his mind, Leon still had no idea how they had ended up in this situation. It had all gone by so quickly, one moment he was attending to an injured man, and the next he was face first in the dirt as a man pressed a knee into his back, with a blade digging against the underside of his jaw as the warrior spoke in a language even he didn't know, and Leon was rather prolific with languages. They had all been rounded up by the people his son and niece had saved and the worst part was none of them knew why.

It had been at least two hours since his other son had run head first into trouble to, and since then they had been ruthlessly dragged along behind the company at a grueling pace. The forest had long since been replaced with grassy plains that seemed to stretch on forever, a small uprising in the far distance where another mountain range lied, and the ocean to their left. Leon guessed they were following the coast, considering the men never strayed too far from it, and they seemed to be traveling in what he assumed was south.

Movement ahead of him had him struggling in earnest as he identified his infant son, cradled in the arms of an unknown man. The child was clearly as displeased as his father, large crocodile tears leaking from puffy eyes, round cheeks red with agitation, and he was writhing against the stranger to get away. Behind him Leo was likewise attempting to escape from the bonds, because ahead of him he could see his wife fighting for her freedom, screaming obscenities against her own gag, chocolate brown eyes blazing with fury.

All three of the women were clearly furious, and if they had an ability to decimate with a single look no man would be left standing. Leo growled irritably, feeling something warm and sticky against his fingertips, belatedly realizing that he was rubbing his wrists raw with his efforts so much that they had begun to bleed. He cast his sea green eyes around, desperate to see if his other son remained unharmed, relaxing only minutely when he spotted the unconscious teen resting comfortably and unbound near the sizable fire that had been built in the center of camp, the wyvern resting on his chest and hissing at everyone who neared.

Both men tensed several long minutes later when two burly men approached, swords in hand. Leo stared up at him incomprehensibly as a command was spoken, the strange cadence of the words causing his irritation to increase, especially when they grew angry with him for not understanding. Another attempt at failed communication and the men grabbed the two secured men by the shoulder, jerking them unsteadily to their feet and proceeding to bodily drag them across the camp.

It caused quite the spectacle, a tense hush falling over everyone in the near vicinity, and Leon and Leo were dropped to the ground in front of the three sisters, groaning as they impacted with the dirt. An elderly man watched on with disapproval of the treatment, exchanging several loud and heated words with another man, who seemed to be the one in charge. Finally they quieted and the elderly man approached, kneeling down with a small dagger in hand.

Leon tensed at the sight of the knife, a momentary flicker of panic flashing through his mind, before he noticed that the man was speaking to him in quelling tones, and reaching for the gag. He flexed his jaw wide once it was free, his mouth tasting of cotton as he watched warily. He made no protest when the cords binding his wrists behind his back were removed, arms falling limp once freed, having gone numb some time ago.

As the man moved to free the others, Leon shot to his feet in an instant, his mind completely blank with no cohesive plan to speak of. He had not even had the chance to take a step when flames abruptly burst into life around all of them, a wall of fire extending nearly eight feet high above, imprisoning them all behind it. He stumbled back, the heat emanating off of it stinging his skin and stealing his breath.

"They will not allow you to cause trouble," the elderly man spoke evenly, the knife held loosely in his hand as he watched on. "I have been allowed to untie you, not to free you,"

Leon rounded on him. "You understand us?"

"I speak this language," the man conceded, a patient expression on his face. "May I finish untying your companions?" The sharp nod he received in return spurred him into motion, shuffling closer to unbind the others with cautious hands. "My name is Gaius," he introduced, and he made no comment when none of them volunteered their names. Piper was the last to be untied, and she surged to her feet much like Leon had, though she launched forward, fingers wrapping around the aged man's throat.

"Give me back my son!" she screamed, flailing as Leo wrapped an arm around her middle and attempted to pull her off, because if she managed to kill the only man who had even spoken to them this entire time, he had a feeling things would only continue to get worse. "Let go of me! _Let go_! Wyatt!"

Paige placed a hand on her shoulder. "Piper," her sister soothed, though she was close to lashing out as well. "What do you people want? We saved your lives,"

Gaius stared at her from beneath ridiculously bushy white eyebrows, shaking his head. "The _children_ saved us," he told her coldly, tucking the knife away into the sleeve of his shirt. "We will bring you rations in an hour," He took a half step back, the flames lowering enough for him to step over them, and they stayed in that position until Phoebe attempted to follow him, intent on getting to her daughter, once again rising until she was at a suitable distance. "Do not try to escape, or you will burn,"

"This is insane," Paige breathed out, gnawing on her bottom lip in worry.

Piper collapsed against her husband as he whispered gently into her hair, sinking to the ground as she sobbed into his neck. "They took him," she whimpered. He held her tighter in response, sharing a look with his counterpart. "They took my baby…"

"Phoenicia too," Phoebe added quietly.

Paige placed an arm around her shoulders. "And Chris,"

"We have to get out of here," Leon stated as he walked the perimeter of the fiery prison in a wide circle, scowling as the flames rose higher if he got too near. His heart was pounding fiercely within his chest, hands balling into fists at his sides. He kicked dirt at the short wall though it had no effect at all, still flickering dangerously with warning. He sighed, hands reaching up to fist his hair. "This is bullshit!"

"Calm down," Phoebe said. "Yelling is not going to solve anything,"

"What do you suggest?" he bit out.

Phoebe shook her head, looking at him as if she could not recognize the man before her. In reality she really didn't because this was not the Leo she knew, though it was still unnerving to see him so close to losing the calm demeanor he always seemed to know. "Sit down, and _think_…"

Paige nodded. "She's right, we need to come up with some sort of plan,"

A soft wail of a child met their ears, and Piper was in motion before anyone could stop her. She ran in the direction of her crying son, arms outstretched, only to scream in pain as her hands touched fire. A sickening scent filled the air as her flesh burned, a choked sound escaping her throat as she was pulled away swiftly and back into the arms of her husband, who kissed her temple while she began to falter.

Leon surveyed gently gripped her arms, twisting them around to survey the damage she had done to herself, hissing as he gazed down at the scarlet stained skin, already bubbling in certain areas. He warred with himself momentarily, feeling helpless and beyond d angry at this point, wishing he could end her pain though knowing he couldn't.

"Shh," Leo whispered to her, obviously feeling the same way, only able to hold her as her eyelashes began to flutter, supporting her when she became nothing but dead weight in his arms. He lowered her to the ground with care, his counterpart helping to arrange her so she would not get any dirt into the wounds. There was nothing any of them could do to help her at this point.

Leon stood angrily, leveling each of them with a steady look. "No one goes near the fire,"

"No complaints from me," Phoebe whispered hoarsely, running a hand over her sister's hair.

Paige gritted her teeth, swirling around to scan the crowd of people who were watching them conspicuously, not even bothering to hide it. "Hey!" she yelled to no one in particular.

"Just sit down, Paige," Leo told her, sighing when she tossed him a stubborn look. "Please?" He was relieved when she decided to listen, settling down on the opposite side of Piper, her eyes gleaming with unshed tears as she looked at the damage. It was a gruesome sight to behold, certainly, and none of them knew how to deal with it.

Leon was just about to ask if any of them had any ideas of how to possibly get out of this situation when movement caught his attention. It was a young man, possibly even younger than Chris, with chestnut colored hair and a slightly rounded face, brown eyes wide and solemn as he approached. He stopped right outside of the circle, shifting uncomfortably as he looked in on them, his eyes going to the unconscious woman.

"… Hurt?" he asked, seemingly struggling with his words.

Leo nodded slowly. "Yes,"

Releasing a shuddering breath, the boy slowly lowered himself to the ground, crossing his legs beneath him as he studied her carefully. "Burn…?" he questioned with a wavering voice, his eyes narrowing with a flash of anger when the older man nodded once more. The boy glanced over his shoulder cautiously, noting the several watchful eyes, though when he turned back there was a determined glint in his eye.

From his boot, the boy extracted a very small knife made entire of stone, something he had likely made himself, and he scratched at the surface of the dirt with the tip, diffing a shallow trench only two inches long. With another wary glance behind him, he carefully sliced the end of his index finger, allowing the blood to well up into a small pool before he allowed it to spill over into the small hole he had created. He pushed the loose soil back over it, patting it down until it was level once more, and with his uninjured hand, he pressed his entire palm against the ground.

Before any of them could ask just what he was doing, the boy let out a ragged breath, his fingers digging in as his eyes fell shut. A small sprout rose from beneath his fingers, just a tiny vine with an insignificant bud still wrapped with the shell of a seed. It grew taller with each deep inhalation, the vine widening from wiry ivy to a sturdy stem, the bud gaining a red hue as it enlarged as well, suddenly bursting open into a full bloom. The base of the plant filled out with long, green pointed leaves that extended out into a thick bush around the flower, small streaks of yellow contrasting nicely with the vibrant ruby blossom.

It was a beautiful sight.

Extracting his hand from the heart of the plant, the boy took several moments to collect himself after the impressive display of magic, blinking rapidly to ward off his sudden lethargy. Brown eyes flicked up to them to ensure he had their attention, smiling briefly before he reached and he broke one of the leaves off, revealing the jellied substance beneath the thick skin, almost like an aloe plant but not quite.

Presenting his injured hand, he then gently squeezed the gel out of the plant and onto the small wound, rubbing it into his skin thoroughly. He made a discomfited sound, before sighing in relief. When lifted his hand once more, the wound had sealed, leaving only a faint white scar behind. His intentions clear, he broke off several more leaves and, careful not to touch the flames, he tossed them inside the ring of fire.

Leon gathered them, handing one off to his counterpart as they set to work applying the healing substance to the horrible wounds on his wife's arms and hands. "Thank you," he said, watching with relief as the unusual salve began to heal the blisters, slowly but surely. Piper shifted uncomfortably several times throughout the entire process, though she never regained consciousness, which was a blessing considering her state.

Phoebe gave the boy a watery smile. "Thank you so much…" He smiled shyly in return, his eyes widening as someone behind him called out. She watched as he stumbled to his feet hurriedly, giving them one last glance before he ran back to the man who was calling to him. "At least not all of them are cruel…"

"Is she going to be okay?" Paige asked.

Leo nodded slowly. "I think so,"

Once the burns were suitably slathered with the substance, Leo offered it to the girls to take care of the scratches around their wrists from where the ropes had rubbed them raw, applying it to his own as well. "It… it tingles," he observed as it soothed the irritation. "Do you know what kind of plant this is?" he asked his counterpart.

"No idea," he sighed. "It is certainly nice though,"

"Maybe they will use it on Chris and Phoenicia," Phoebe mused.

Paige shook her head though. "It may have healed Piper but she still didn't wake up,"

"What now?"

Leon sighed heavily. "Now we wait…"

Hours past with little change in their situation, save for the fact that the boy had been back to bring them a small leather pouch containing a portion of bread and some type of dried meat, and a large cup of water for them all to share. Admittedly it was not much to eat, though they had little choice since their own provisions had been confiscated with the rest of their items. They shared the bread, keeping a small piece for Piper to eat when she woke, and drank the water, though none of them were uncertain about the meat because who knew what kind of animal it had come from.

As the sky began to shift from a soft mauve to a dark maroon, it became apparent that the beginnings of a rather sudden rainstorm was nearing, the lightning illuminating the plains around them for all to see. A few of the people scattered as the first mist of sprinkles began to fall from the heavens above, though several simply raised their faces to it and basked in the rain.

It had become clear early on that the entire company holding them prisoner was segregated somehow, all merging into small groups and setting up their own shelters as far away from each other as safely possible. And it was Phoebe who had noticed that these people were bearing one of five different symbols somehow on a shield, on a cord around their neck, or actually tattooed into their skin.

Leon inhaled sharply when he began thinking rationally. The gentle patter of sprinkles had given way to a heavy downpour, and in an admittedly fascinating sight to see, the large droplets of water battered against an invisible barrier around the entire makeshift campsite, blanketing all around them with a dome of water that slid to the ground uselessly. The few people who seemed to enjoy the rain were outside of this barrier, preforming what appeared to be a kind of ritual beneath the falling rain.

"Elementals…" he breathed out, awe in his tone as he watched everyone with a different kind of scrutiny.

Leo faltered, looking up at him. "All of them?" He too looked around, inwardly scolding himself for not making the connection. Their imprisonment was at the hands of a _fire_ elemental to be certain, the protective bubble to prevent the rain from soaking them all the work of a _water_ elemental… and the boy who caused the plant to heal his wife was obviously _earth_. How had he missed the implications, especially since they were already aware that any other kind of magic was not accessible in this area.

"Only eight or nine of them, from what I gather," Leon shook his head after making his observations. "The rest seem to be mundane, and… slightly intimidated," As if to prove his words, one of the presumed elementals scowled at another man, causing him to cower away slightly. He frowned as he squinted at the runes they wore, trying to discern each person to their element. "There are at least three _earth_ here, and if those men dancing in the rain are _water_, that is another four. And we know there is at least one _fire_ nearby, keeping us trapped,"

"I thought elementals were the good guys," Phoebe said softly. "They don't seem all that good to me, holding us hostage after we only tried to help them,"

Paige suddenly rose to her feet worriedly. "What are they doing?"

Everyone turned to follow her gaze across to the campfire, where the unconscious form of their whitelighter laid out upon the ground. A large man with dark hair was kneeling beside him, slowly removing the articles of clothing from the smaller man and tossing them into a pile beside him.

Leon clenched his hand into a fist, watching as his son was exposed shamelessly, gnashing his teeth together, moments away from attempting to jump the wall of fire himself. Several different thoughts ran through the concerned and angry father's mind as he watched it, and he had to remind himself that surely these people would not molest their savior.

Phoebe cried out in denial as she watched the boy being lifted into the man's arms, and suddenly placing him on a makeshift gurney made entirely of chopped lengths of wood, which was then carried with the help of another man to rest in the hearth of the fire pit. The wood ignited almost instantly, possibly with the use of an accelerant or by the fire elementals among them, flames engulfing the prone figure as they rose high, obscuring him from view.

Paige watched with tears in her eyes, shaking her head. "Oh God," she gasped, very near hyperventilation as she collapsed against Leon, burying her face into his neck. "They… Chris," she sobbed, clutching the man to her. "Burning him alive… no, no, no…"

Leo felt his heart stop at the words, feeling a bit dizzy, his throat bobbing several times as his esophagus seemed to close up on him. He too was shaking his head, not believing this could be happening. He had refused to believe it because he had only just discovered just how precious this boy was to him, and he could not bear to lose him so abruptly, before he could let Chris know just how much he loved him already. He could not lose his son, not now, not like this.

There was nothing any of them could do as Christopher Perry burned, still confined in a space which would only serve to leave them to the same fate.

Only Leon seemed to hold on to any sense of sanity as he held the hysterical woman, soothing her with quiet words as he rubbed her back. His own heart was beating fast than a hummingbird's inside of his chest, the frantic pace thrumming even as he attempted to keep himself collected for their sake. His son was burning in a pit of fire, and though the thought made his stomach clench with fear and rage, he had to remind himself that there was nothing to be done, and that his son would survive.

_Chris is alive, _the desperate mantra repeated in his mind, a over and over again as his eyes remained locked on the obscured figure shrouded with burning hot flames. _Chris is alive, he is fire, he won't burn, he can't burn… Chris is alive…_ _alive, alive, alive…_

Leon knew this intellectually; honestly he knew it, just as he knew he needed air to survive. Christopher was a fire elemental. His element was fire. Fire could touch him without consequence, and in fact, the fire would only serve as an effective healing method. He knew it, he did. Only… _knowing_ that his son would be unharmed and _seeing_ him burn, whereas anyone else would erupt in screams of terror and pain, were entirely two different scenarios and he was still finding it difficult to breath despite his knowledge.

Though try as he might, he could not voice his reassurances to the others, choking on his own words.

"No need to worry," an unfamiliar voice said, and Leon unwillingly turned hateful sea green eyes onto the newcomer. His voice was smooth and calm, practically oozing with confidence as he studied Paige with something akin to sympathy. He had the same muscular build that many of these men seemed to possess, flaunting it shamelessly as stood in only breaches and boots, broad chest and chiseled torso for all to see, his skin a dark olive complexion. His hair was black, the sides shaved completely and leaving only a singular stripe down the center of his head in a mohawk.

"No need to worry?" Phoebe repeated loudly, nearly hysterically as Paige too looked up at him with disbelief clouding her features. "You people just _murdered_ a man who saved your life not more than a few hours ago, burnt him alive, and you say we don't need to worry? _YOU KILLED CHRIS, YOU MISERABLE EXCUSE OF A HUMAN BEING!_" she screamed, and had she not been beside Leo supporting her sister's weight, it was apparent that she would have attempted to scratch his eyes out.

Gray eyes widened at her furious and heartbroken face, and the man held up his hands in universal surrender, seemingly uncertain on how to respond. "Whoa," he breathed out in shock, a hand reaching up to run down the strip of hair almost nervously. "I think there has been a major misunderstanding here, lady," he said.

"Misunderstanding?" Phoebe repeated scathingly.

With a fervent nod, he gestured to where the fire was still raging stronger than ever. "It is a healing fire, that hothead Tristan has been working on it since we made camp to let your boy crisp until he wakes up," he told her earnestly. "His element is fire too, and since your boy worked himself into magical exhaustion, he said is the only way to heal the kid without causing any bad side effects,"

Paige sniffed slightly, tears staining her cheeks. "Chris is still alive?"

"Yes," he assured her. "He should be fine in a few hours,"

"… Are you sure?" Phoebe pushed, her own eyes darting to the fire once more.

"Absolutely," He was silent for several moments, allowing the knowledge that their companion would survive being burnt alive. He smiled uncertainly. "My name is Xavier," he introduced with a small wave.

Paige swallowed the thickness lodged in her throat. "What do you want?"

Instead of being put off by her snappy tone, Xavier only shrugged slightly. "Finley said that one of you attempted to cross the fire, and was injured. I just wanted to see if she was alright," He gave the unconscious woman a scrutinizing look, nodding with approval as he saw the discarded remains of the plant. "You are lucky he was the one to grow that. Gawain would have produced poison ivy or something,"

Phoebe cleared her throat. "Finley is the little boy?"

"Yeah, that would be him," Xavier looked behind him to where said boy was watching the interaction warily. "He was under the impression that you were a bit confused by what was happening, and asked if I could speak to you."

"Are you going to explain why we are being held captive?" Leo asked cautiously.

Xavier winced, looking a tad bit sheepish though he nodded. "It is because… you are _uplanders_," he whispered the word, as if expecting something terrible to happen because of it. He seemed a bit confused himself when he realized they did not seem to grasp the seriousness of his words, and if fact seemed even more bewildered than ever. "You are, aren't you? From the Surface…" he questioned, waiting for elaboration.

"Yes…" Leon said slowly. "We are,"

"… That is why," Xavier said with a shudder, actually looking as if he wanted to take a step back.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Paige demanded. "Why do you make it sound like it is a bad thing?"

Xavier tilted his head curiously, the tension visibly draining from his shoulders when he seemed to recognize that they were still unaware of the reasoning behind his, and the rest of his company's apparent apprehension. "You… you really don't know?" he asked incredulously. He bit his lip at the negative responses, glancing over to where the old man who had untied them stood as he shifted nervously. He scratched at his jaw when he looked back. "I… you… damn, this is difficult,"

"Is there something wrong," Phoebe frowned. "With… uplanders…?"

Before he could answer the question, a soft rustling nearby drew attention to the large, burly man who was approaching, a heavy scowl etched on his face. "Xavier," he said loudly, giving the other man a slight shove once he was near. He was heavily muscled, his hair black with gray pulling at his temples. His eyes were molten amber, seemingly glowing as he glared. "Tristan forbade us from interacting with this… _filth_,"

Phoebe drew up affronted. "_Excuse_ _me_?"

Xavier scowled as well, crossing his arms over his bare chest. "He said nothing of the sort, only that we could not let them out. Nothing was said about communicating,"

"You know very well what he meant,"

"He should have been more specific," Xavier said shortly, scoffing with a roll of his eyes. "Besides, _Tristan_ may act as if he is our leader…" He leaned in closer, getting in the larger man's face with a sneer. "But he is technically only _your_ superior, Bors. I decide my own actions, and if I wish to speak with the uplanders, then I will,"

"You—"

"Admit it, hothead," Xavier said evenly. "You would like to speak to them too…"

Bors glared with fury, his nostrils flaring as he stared the other man down. And then, quite unexpectedly, he rounded and gestured almost wildly to those imprisoned uplanders he so despised. His mouth was at an unpleasant tilt and he narrowed his eyes at them. "Surely all of us would like to know," he said loudly, drawing the attention of everyone nearby. "Is why two _children_ stepped in to aid us… when they were traveling with _five adults_…"

There was a murmur of agreement that surged through the men, and slowly people began to approach in order to hear better, no longer under the pretense of busying themselves with other tasks. Before any of them could defend their actions, being essentially powerless in this strange, unfamiliar world, another man stepped forward, placing a quelling hand upon Bors' shoulder. Tawny eyes blazed with a contained fury as he turned to observe the captives, his expression unchanging as he met their gazes calculatingly.

"Children should never cast such powerful spells," he told them, voice coarse and deep, though emotionless. "It is beyond their capability to cast safely, and as their caregivers it was your responsibility to ensure their safety,"

Bors nodded fervently. "They should not even know _how_ to cast spells of that nature," the larger man added, looking so incensed that he might have actually bound over the line of fire to use violence against them had it not been for the other man holding him back. "Especially not until after their _quickening,_" His voice was unexplainably horrified as he whispered the word. "Let alone before their ascension… do you have no regard for their lives at all?"

Phoebe stared at them both with wide, incomprehensible eyes, shaking her head helplessly because she simply had no idea what they were talking about. She glanced to Leo and Leon, hoping they might have a clue, though they seemed to be just as lost as she was.

Gaius, the elderly man who had untied them, sighed heavily. "Bors… please," he began, though soon switched to the language everyone except for the uplanders seemed to understand. He seemed disappointed with the results of his conversation however, and looked imploringly to the man still standing beside Bors. "Tristan—"

"_You_ do not speak here, _wizard,_" Bors hissed at him, somehow making the word seem as if it were the vilest of curses imaginable. "Do not overestimate our respect for you. These _uplanders_ have no right to be responsible for the lives of adolescent elementals,"

"Indeed," Tristan concurred heavily, several other voicing their approval as well. He stepped away from Bors, moving closer with sure steps until he stood directly in front of the fiery prison. A startling sight to behold was the way the flames seemed to gravitate toward the man, coiling and writhing about as if trying to reach him. He looked at Phoebe directly, tawny eyes penetrating and heavy. "They should have been removed from your care during their awakening on their fifth annual. It is our law."

Phoebe stuttered. "You—"

"Whatever dubious means of magic you have been using to conceal their presence from the _Illuminati_," he continued on without even acknowledging her broken defense. "It will not be permitted here, and will in fact be met with severe punishment once we reach the inner cities,"

"Removed from our care?" Paige snapped, stepping in front of her sister and obscuring her form view. She crossed her arms resolutely. "Not going to happen. Not now, not _ever_…"

Tristan met her eyes evenly. "You will not have the choice."

"We should leave them here," one man suggested.

Several people voiced their opinions and they all seemed to be in accord. Phoebe swallowed nervously, watching with growing apprehension. This conversation was quickly spiraling away from her grasp, even as Xavier attempted to placate his comrades. She couldn't hear any of it, her hand covering her slackened mouth. These people were going to take her daughter away, and her whitelighter and probably her nephew, and they all seemed to think it was perfectly justified.

"Perhaps we should," Tristan said coolly. "Take the children and leave…"

"Tristan," Xavier hissed angrily, abruptly shoving the man forward since he was being ignored. He had not anticipated that the other man would lose his footing, due to his little push. Xavier grimaced as he watched the other man stumble, stepping through the fire without consequence, catching himself before he could fall to the ground beside the prisoners.

No one said a word, all seemingly waiting for some sort of violent retaliation from Tristan who slowly raised himself to his full height. Phoebe watched him from her position on the ground, worrying her bottom lip as she realized they were in striking distance now, and the man stood immobile. She could feel his judging eyes pass over her, and discreetly grasped Leo's hand for reassurance. Leon clenched his fists tightly, apparently holding himself back, knowing that he was outnumbered and still trapped, and thus could never win a fight.

Paige, however, swiftly uncrossed her arms and took three wide steps forward until she was standing just in front of the man, whom was now _within reach_ for her as well. No one was prepared for her to suddenly draw her arm back, hand striking out and connecting with his face with such force that his head snapped to the side, black hair whipping around swiftly. She breathed heavily, chest heaving as she watched his reaction carefully, flexing her fingers as she felt the sting.

Slowly, almost at a painstakingly slow pace, the man rose his own hand, though not to deliver a punishing blow in return. His course fingers grazed his own cheek, which felt even warmer than normal to the touch, tan skin flushed scarlet from the force of the strike and from his own anger. Heat flared out around him, his eyes burning as the fire burst to life behind him, seemingly keeping pace with his angry breaths.

The silence was positively tangible, everyone tense and waiting with anticipation for what was to come.

Even as sweat began to trickle down her neck from the heat surrounding her, Paige stood tall and confident. She remained unmoved by his wilting gaze, meeting his furious eyes with a determined glint in her own. This was her niece, her nephew, and her other nep—her Chris that he was talking about abducting. She would be damned if she stood by and watched it happen, and she made sure he knew it. Her demeanor betrayed her, projecting to everyone that she was willing to sacrifice herself if that was the price to pay, and a few were suitably intimidated by the slender woman.

Tristan was quite larger than her in more ways than one. It was true that he towered over her, forcing her to tilt her head high to be able to meet his gaze, and his body was lithe yet muscular. His eyes were quite intense, glowing as if pure molten gold, and the tribal markings inked into his cheekbones made him appear a bit fierce. His sheer presence alone, the magic and heat practically radiating from him, however, was enough to make a wiser person cower in fear of their lives.

Paige must have looked ridiculous, facing off against him as if she was the one in control. She stood her ground though, unwilling to back down even in the face of danger. She refused. "You _touch_ any of them," she whispered, her voice sounding strangely unlike herself at the moment, even taking her by surprise. She had no idea she could sound so cold. "And I will hunt you down… and tear you apart, even if it kills me."

A dark eyebrow rose at her declaration, an odd flicker to the man's eyes that spoke of attentiveness. He frowned deeply, the raging wall of fire behind him faltering. "Bold words," he replied softly. "For an essentially powerless uplander," He spoke the word without the now familiar bitterness and spite to it, speaking it as if commenting on nothing more than the weather.

Tension in the crowd seemed to dissipate at the tone, confusion rippling through them all, especially Paige who could feel her heart pounding a fiercely against her ribcage. She trebled slightly as his hand rose once more, this time reaching for her. Her eyes closed, her body flinching with anticipation for the moment he would hit her. The moment she felt the touch, she gasped, her eyes flying open wide, the touch gentle and soothing, nothing more than the back of his fingers grazing her cheek.

Paige sought his face, taken aback by oddly soft expression. Her brows pinched together uncertainly, and before she could comment on it, the indifferent mask was in place, Tristan turning his head and lifting both hands slightly, palms facing the ground as he lowered them once more—the fire behind him completely extinguished at his behest, flickering out of existence and leaving behind only a blackened ring of cold embers and ash.

Tristan took a step away, bending at the waist in a low bow, his hair falling around his face as. He pulled up shortly after, nodding sharply before he turned his heel and walked away without any further explanation. Others followed his lead, walking away without a word, returning to their duties and keeping their distance.

Paige released a breath she had not even realized she had been holding, expelling it loudly as she watched them all retreat. "What… what just happened?" she questioned, turning her head to look at her sister and the two versions of her brother in law, though they seemed to be in too much shock to even voice an opinion. She gripped her hair, shaking her head at the insanity of it all, cautiously glancing at the remains of the fire.

"Nothing will happen," Xavier told her gently, looking a bit amazed by the strange occurrence himself. He shook his own head, releasing a low whistle. "Never thought I would see the day _he_ would be impressed by anyone,"

A young man approached tentatively, smiling a crooked though uncertain smile when he managed to gain their attention, shifting from foot to foot. "That was… interesting," he said quietly, brown eyes kind. He was quite possibly the tallest man in the camp, though whereas everyone seemed to be quite muscular, he was less defined and more lanky and long. He was far from intimidating though, even with his impressive height. "My name is Gawain, and I believe you have already met my younger brother, Finley,"

Beside him was the little boy, peeking around the taller man with a smile, waving slightly.

"Paige," she offered in return, smiling reluctantly at the young boy, though still a bit confused. "He was… _impressed? _With_… with me?_ How the hell did that happen?"

Finely laughed, though more at her tone since his language skills were lacking, and Gawain smiled at her. "No need to look so nervous," he told her softly. "You managed to endear yourself to him, through your courage and protective nature… we could all sense it, you love those children and would do anything for them. You consider them family. It makes you an ally to our kind, that you would offer them unconditional love."

Paige breathed slowly, glancing around to catch sight of the two time travelers and the toddler. "What happens now?" she asked worriedly. "They are not still planning to kidnap them, right?"

"Not a chance," Xavier laughed loudly. "Tristan would destroy them if they tried."

"... Oh."

Phoebe bit her lip. "Do they really abduct children…?"

"Yes," Gawain said apologetically, his face solemn. "It is the law to bring a child in once they have reached their awakening. It is a barbaric law, one that is not only upheld but enforced. It has to be done, and that is something we all understand, however,"

"Understand?" Leon repeated lowly, finding something very familiar about this conversation. "How can anyone condone that?"

"The official position," Xavier said quietly. "Is that adolescent elementals can unknowing cause quite a bit of destruction when their emotions run too high, and depending on what their element is the reactions can be quite severe. It is true that they can cause sudden downpours," He gestured above, where the rain still beat against the dome, and then looked to where the infant was wailing in the arms of one of his comrades.

"Wait," Phoebe balked. "Wyatt is…?"

Gawain nodded easily, not seeming to realize that they had been unaware. "It will be worse once he reaches his awakening. He is quite powerful already, and it will only increase as he gets older. Temper tantrums will be extremely dangerous for all elementals, some causing hurricanes and earthquakes, others tsunamis and erupting volcanoes. Adolescents are removed to prevent high stress scenarios,"

"However," Xavier interjected, crossing his arms. "Everyone knows the real reason is because our race is attempting to replenish the ranks."

"Replenishing," Leo frowned. "How do you mean?"

Both men seemed hesitant to answer. "It was because of the _Purge_," Gawain said finally, reluctance obvious in his voice, his face discomfited by the topic. He looked down, sighing heavily. "I… I have to go," He took hold of his brother gently, steering him away quickly, only pausing once to look at them over his shoulder.

Xavier bit his lip, obviously uncomfortably as well. "You… you didn't eat your jerky," he noted quietly, and despite their intense curiosity, the change in topic remained uncontested. "You should eat it, it will help you keep your strength up, and it is very filling,"

Paige glanced at the discarded rations. "What kind of meat is it?"

"Auroch, of course," he replied easily. "You'll love it,"

A very disheveled man brought all conversations to a standstill soon after, in his arms a distraught Wyatt yanked agitatedly at his hair. He passed the child to Leo without any words, entirely relieved to be rid of the infant. Leo held him, surprised when he quieted almost instantly, the fat tears dripping from his chin and the quiet sniffs the only remnants of his small fit at having been removed from his mother's care.

Xavier continued to keep them company for a while longer, though he avoided mentioning the _Purge_ or anything to do with his race as if it were the plague. He carried Phoenicia over once heavy furs and linens had been distributed to them, gently laying her on the fur Phoebe had claimed.

Night soon settled upon them all, and despite the fact that they were in unfamiliar surroundings, Phoebe and Paige succumbed to their exhaustion, both the physical from the vigorous trek through the rolling hills and thick forests, and from the emotions twists and turns. The two sisters curled up around the third, who curled around her son unknowingly in her sleep, all silent as the grave.

Leo and Leon were still wary of these people, despite the fact that everyone was being one hundred percent civil ever since the confrontation between Paige and Tristan. Since their items had been returned by some unspoken agreement between all of the men, Leon armed himself with his sword while Leo selected the impressive collection of throwing knives, both men in accord to keeping watch over their loved ones.

Leon detached from watching over the sleeping women however, instead taking up position against a fallen log near the large burning fire pit where his son still remained. He could see the boy within the hearth, usually suspicious and stressful face slackened into a serene image. It was still a difficult concept to grasp, having to curb the instinctual urge to snatch his son away from something so dangerous and destructive as fire, though he forced himself to remain where he was, watching the boy within the hypnotizing flames intently.

There were more important matters on his mind, facts and details he was beginning to recall now that he was alone to his own thoughts. Words echoed in his mind, taunting him as he realized their significance. _Awakening, ascension, _and _quickening… _something had broken, shattered even inside of his mind. He felt as if his world was beginning to crash down around him, his breathing strangely shallow as his eyes grew suspiciously wet. He remembered, and it _hurt_.

_Oh God_, he drew in a shuddering breath.

A soft rustling alerted him to the fact that someone had joined his silent vigil. "You are his father,"

It was a statement, and Leon inclined his head as he rested his forearms atop his knees.

Tristan turned his attention to the fire as well. "It is easier to let go when they are young,"

"_You _did this,"

The accusation was acknowledged with a sigh.

"I can sense it," the black haired man said quietly, his voice sympathetic. "It was done to make the transition easier… for all."

Leon shook uncontrollably. "Easier?" he repeated with a choking laugh devoid of any humor. "_I remember everything_," His face was unrecognizable, hatred in his eyes. "I remember _you_…"

"… For what it's worth," Tristan said quietly. "I am sorry."

"You will be," he vowed. "Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow… hell, maybe not even for a few years. But I guarantee the last face you will ever look at will be mine."

Tristan walked away slowly.

Leon watched him go. _I will kill you_…

**End  
Chapter**

… So… told you things were about to get interesting. Did I confuse anyone?

Lynx


End file.
